


Into The Woods

by ranguvar82



Series: Guardian and Pear [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley's Plants (Good Omens), Eventual Romance, Feral Crowley (Good Omens), Fire, Forest Guardian Crowley, Gabriel is a dick, M/M, Magic, Mentions of past abuse, Mysterious Past, Telepath Aziraphale, Telepathy, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 38,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27328876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranguvar82/pseuds/ranguvar82
Summary: Aziraphale is a telepath. He hates it, hates the constant thoughts that batter him daily. He knows if he stays in Soho, he'll go mad. He finds a house on the edge of a forest that promises peace. The nearest neighbor is across a lake, and the nearest village is a day's ride away. But Aziraphale can't shake the feeling of being watched, and when a mysterious basket of apples appears, he is determined to find out where they came from. What follows is a journey into magic and quite possibly, love.Crowley has been the Guardian of his Forest for countless years. He has seen humans come and go, and none of them cared for his Forest, so he chased them all off. But this human, with his rose petal voice and plump pear body, this one is different, and Crowley finds himself feeling something he's never felt before...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Guardian and Pear [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015479
Comments: 196
Kudos: 306





	1. And The Silence Was Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale flees the city for his sanity and stumbles on a mystery.

Into The Woods

Chapter One: And The Silence Was Broken

On a corner street in the city of Soho sat a bookshop. The name on the door was A.Z Fell and Co, Rare Antique Books and Collectibles. The hours on the door were incomprehensible, and inside the shop was dust and slight mold. Books were piled on tables, stacked haphazardly on shelves, strewn across the floor, and stacked on sagging chairs. The floors creaked when you walked on them, and the owner, the eponymous Mr. Fell, never liked having customers. He was a weird one. It was fine if you wanted to buy a book. You brought it up to the front counter, he rang you up, and you left. You did not engage in conversation. You did not ask about his day. And most of all- You did not, under any circumstances, make eye contact.

If a person looked Mr. Fell in the eyes, he would freeze, just like a deer in headlights, before clutching his hands to his head and running into the back room. He never emerged, so the person, puzzled, would go on their way. Everyone chalked it up to just an odd behavior.

Aziraphale knew it was more than that. He was sitting in his back room on his battered sofa, knees to his chest and hands clasped over his ears, the heels digging into his ear canal. Why wasn’t it going away, it usually went away by now! Thoughts that weren’t his own were swirling around in his head, the voices whispering and whispering and…

He grabbed for the bottle on the table and pulled the cork off with his teeth, taking a large slug of the whiskey. It burned like Hellfire going down, but the voices calmed. Aziraphale whimpered, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his right hand.

“Fuck...” His head was pounding like a brass band, his chest felt like it was in a vice, and his eyes-his **fucking** eyes-felt like they were boiling in his skull.

Ah, the joys of being a telepath. Aziraphale somehow managed to stand on shaking legs and stumble-stagger to the stuttering fridge. He pulled out an orange and sliced it, then carried it back to the sofa and ate, his eyes fixed on the far wall. 

All the stories he had read growing up had painted the ability to read minds in such an amazing, exciting light. Being able to delve into a person’s deepest, darkest thoughts and know right away what sort of person they were. Helping the police, who were of course skeptical at first, but then became believers, solve crimes that had puzzled them. Being a minor celebrity at parties for their ability to liven things up with staged palm readings. 

None of the stories mentioned the debilitating, crippling migraines that constantly plagued him. They didn’t mention that once a person’s thoughts were in the telepath’s head, the only thing that removed them was drinking until he passed out. They didn’t mention that simply looking at another person was enough for the thoughts to come pouring in. They didn’t mention that the worse the thought, the more it physically made him sicken.(Aziraphale once read the mind of a man who came into the shop. The man’s thoughts were so vile-having to do with a young girl-that Aziraphale had vomited all over the counter and fell back in a dead faint. He later read that the man had been arrested for severe child abuse.)

Aziraphale tossed the pieces of orange into the bin. He looked out the window at the bustling streets. He gulped. His flat, thankfully, was above his shop. But he  had to do the weekly shop, which meant braving the streets. He staggered up the back stairs and went over to his dresser drawer. “Shit!” He had forgotten he was out of earplugs. Cursing, he went to find alternatives. No cotton balls, and he didn’t fancy sticking cotton swabs in his ears. He braced himself against the bathroom counter. “You can do this. It’s just to the store. All you have to do is walk to the store and ignore the whispers. It’s not full on mind reading, it’s just...surface thoughts. That’s all.” 

He grabbed his phone, went downstairs, then took a deep breath before stepping out of his sanctuary. 

The whispers-the surface thoughts of all the people passing by-hit him like a freight train. He staggered against the building, hands over his ears, and sobbed. He couldn’t do this. Aziraphale screwed his eyes shut and counted ten before pushing away from the wall and setting back down the street. Just two blocks to the store, buy the necessities, then walk back to the shop. That’s all he had to do. 

‘Gonna show that man of mine he can’t boss me around...’ This from a young woman, who jostled him and gave him a glare before moving on, and Aziraphale knew she was going to do more than just show him…

‘Stupid boss thinks he can pass me over for promotion...’

‘Wish I could take a holiday but George doesn’t wanna...’

‘Milkeggsbutterflour...’

‘Shouldnaspentthatmoneyon thatdress, Harry’s gonna go spare..’

‘Stupid kids always askin’ for more shit, never had that trouble with me...’ 

And more and more thoughts, thoughts of jobs and clothes and petty desires and petty revenges and grocery lists and toys and office workers and petty hates and unrequited loves and they swirled together in his head, until he couldn’t pick one out, and the whispers were getting louder and louder and  **louder** and Aziraphale was running, he was running with his hands over his ears, and he skidded to a stop in front of his shop, wrenched the door open, and fell inside, collapsing on the floor with a loud sob. 

He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t stay here, with thoughts and whispers in his head. He was already on the knife’s edge of sanity. He had to get away before Gabriel forced him to go back to...That Place. Aziraphale sobbed, shaking. He never wanted to go back there, with the stark walls and the men with beady eyes that poked and prodded and asked questions Aziraphale didn’t know the answers to.  The muddled thoughts and the ugly thoughts and the thoughts that made him scream and cry and beg for relief, the medicine that did no good, the silence that was never silence, not for him. 

He staggered to his feet and went up to his flat, pulling up his laptop and scrolling. After an hour’s fruitless searching, he found something that looked promising. A house on the outskirts of a very small village. There was a forest surrounding three sides of it, and a lake on the North side. Best of all, Aziraphale noted that the nearest neighbor lived on the other side of the lake. He emailed the estate agent with an offer.

Two weeks later, he was standing on the front porch of his new home. The movers had brought everything inside, and now Aziraphale was officially moved in. He stepped inside, smiling. It was so...quiet here. He couldn’t hear anything except the sounds of Nature, and for the first time in a very, very long time, the only thoughts he heard were his own. He was so amazed at the idea that he had to sit down. 

He went outside and walked down to the lake. It was still as glass, and Aziraphale felt the urge to go swimming. Well, why not? There was nobody around. Giggling, he shed his clothes and dove in, yelping at the cold water. But it was a very warm day, and as he kept swimming, the water began to feel rather nice. He splashed and yelled, unaware that he was being watched. 

Crowley had been growing a rose for fun when he heard the noises. He recognized them as humans, and he snarled. He didn’t need humans coming here, they always made things bad. The last humans that had lived in the strange cave had been very loud and mean, stomping through his forest without a care, messing it up. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to see what these humans were like before he started his campaign to chase them off. He scampered up a tree, then across to another one, leaping like a cat. The branches widened and lowered at his whistle, and it wasn’t long before he was crouched in a tree above the weird cave, gazing with golden eyes at the sight below. There were...a lot of humans(Crowley couldn’t count), and one of them looked soft and plump, like a ripe pear. The others were tree skinny, and were carrying odd objects. One of the tree humans said something to Ripe Pear and he pointed inside the cave. Crowley tilted his head. The Before Humans had left their objects in the cave when they left, so why was this one bringing more? Were they for eating? Crowley watched as the Tree Humans got in something that made horrible noises and left Pear Human alone. 

He emerged from the cave a bit later(Crowley called up an apple and munched on it while he waited) and walked to the lake. Crowley nearly fell out of the tree when the human removed his outer skins(and what animal they were from, Crowley had no idea) and dove in. The human was...well, very nice looking. Maybe he wouldn’t be like all the others. 

Aziraphale sloshed out of the lake and shook his hair out. He picked his clothes back up and was about to head back inside when he got the oddest sensation that he was being watched. “Hello? Anyone there?”

Crowley hissed in shock and darted up the tree to hide in the branches. None of the other humans had noticed him-at least not until he had wanted them to, in order to punish them for disrespecting his forest. There was no way this Pear Human should have even felt his presence. Crowley was worried, but more than that, he was curious. 

Aziraphale shrugged and went inside. He dried off and dressed, then set about finding something to make for dinner. Pickings were rather slim, and he resigned himself to going shopping tomorrow. Thank Someone he had several packages of ear plugs.  He fixed himself a cheese toastie and a cup of tea and sat at the table, eating his meager meal. He was halfway done when his mobile rang. Groaning, he picked it up. “Hello, Gabriel.”

His brother sounded very perturbed. “Aziraphale, what are you doing?”

“I’ve no idea what you speak of.”

“You know you’re supposed to stay where I can keep an eye on you in case your...condition gets worse. And it has gotten worse, hasn’t it?” Aziraphale snarled into the phone. “I’m only acting in your best interest, little brother.”

Aziraphale’s laugh was on the verge of manic. “Acting in my best interest?! You locked me away in an asylum! I only got out because I managed to convince those charlatans you hired that I was cured!  **Do you have any idea what they did to me in there?! Do you?!** Don’t you FUCKING dare tell me you were acting in my best interest!” Aziraphale snarled before hanging up. He sighed and went to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of wine and uncorking it before heading out onto the back porch. He looked towards the forest and raised the bottle. “Here’s to peace.” He took a long swig, belched, and wiped his mouth. 

Crowley watched as the human drank something that smelled like grapes. Maybe the human liked grapes. Crowley liked grapes. And apples. Apples were his favorite. One of his flowers was skittering down out of his hair towards the human, and Crowley snarled at it. The flower’s petals closed in sorrow and it wove itself back in his hair. Crowley snorted. That was marigolds for you, always trying to push their limits. The human was muttering something in that strange language they had. But, Crowley thought, he did have a nice voice. Like a rose’s voice. Soft.

“Damn Gabriel and damn Uriel and damn everything and damn this fucking curse and...okay, I know there’s someone there! If this is some sort of prank, I must warn you I’m not in the mood!”

Crowley yipped in shock. How, how was this human able to sense him? He melted into the tree, panting. Humans didn’t see him unless he wanted them to. That was how it worked. That was how it always worked. Oh, they might sense something odd, but usually just chalked it up to living so close to Crowley’s forest. No one had ever sensed  **him.** His curiosity about this human increased tenfold. He wanted to...welcome him. That hadn’t happened in a long time. The last human he had welcomed had been a small human(Crowley thought the small one was called ‘Hareet’) that had loved to grow plants. They had been friends until the taller humans that lived with her had gone away, taking her with them. 

He dashed through the trees to his home. His flowers greeted him with exuberance, one of his daisies even growing taller so it could embrace him. He nuzzled it, then went over to his apple trees. He touched the trunk with his long fingers, stroking it. Apples appeared on the branches, and Crowley held out his arms. The apples fell, and Crowley carried them over to a basket he had woven out of grass. It was very light, but immensely strong, able to hold very heavy loads. Crowley thought for a minute, then went into his cave and got the bottle of honey wine that he had made, thanks to his bees. They buzzed at him, and he buzzed back. Maybe the soft human would like the wine. He packed it in the basket, then strapped it to his back and darted up the trees once more. 

The easy part was getting to the strange cave. The hard part would be delivering the basket, making sure the human found the basket, and doing it all without being seen. Crowley approached the cave on tiptoe, silently warning the grass around him to stop making noise. He carefully placed the basket on the wooden bit of the cave. Now how to alert the human? Crowley noticed something on the mouth of the cave. It was round. Curious, he poked it. A shrill cry echoed, and Crowley yelped and jumped back, darting up into the closest tree and hiding. He snarled at the thing, but it didn’t make anymore noise. 

The odd stone in front of the cave opened, and the human came out. He said something in his rose petal voice, then noticed the basket. Crowley  peered through the leaves, his heart pounding. Would the human take the basket? Would he leave it? Crowley sighed in relief when the human picked up the basket and carried it inside. Feeling curiously warm and happy, Crowley darted back home. 

Aziraphale carried the basket to the table. It was surprisingly light, and he could see that it was woven from grass. And done extremely well. He lifted the top off and gasped. 

There in the basket were a dozen of the most beautiful apples he had ever seen in his life. A deep red, all of them large and round and flawless. He picked one up, and inhaled. The scent was beyond euphoric. He had never smelled apples this good before. He took a small bite, closed his eyes and moaned. “Oh my god...” The apple was, beyond a doubt, the best he had ever eaten in his life. Tart and sweet, with that perfect crunch, and no brown spots. 

There was something else in the basket. Aziraphale lifted it out. It was a gourd, and something sloshed inside. He pulled off the top, sniffing. “Mead!” He took a sip, then coughed. “Hoo boy, that’s potent!” It was also delicious, and Aziraphale found his brandy snifter and poured himself a small measure. 

He devoured six apples down to their cores before he was full, and placed the rest in the fridge along with the gourd of mead. He carried the apple cores and the basket out to the back porch. “Umm...thank you. I, um...guess I’ll give you back the cores.” He set the basket down and went back inside, hiding behind the curtain so he could see who took the basket. 

A shadowy shape ran out from behind the trees, picked up the basket, and ran like a rabbit into the forest. Aziraphale threw on his trainers and ran out the door. “Wait, please!” The shape leaped into the trees, and Aziraphale followed, running down the twisting path, dodging tree roots, leaves, and bushes. “I just wanted to say thank you for the apples! How did you manage to grow them? Please, I don’t want to hurt you!” 

He skidded to a halt. Blocking his path was the most enormous shrub he had ever seen. It towered over him by a good three feet. He could hear panting behind it. He frowned and stepped forward. “I’m not going to hurt you.” The shrub rustled, and Aziraphale  parted some of it with his hands. “Hello? Is anyone...”

A pair of wide, golden eyes suddenly appeared in front of him. Aziraphale yelped, stepped backwards, tripped over a root, and fell flat on his ass. 


	2. And So The Forest Spoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley meet.

Chapter Two: And So The Forest Spoke

Aziraphale gulped at the golden eyes. His ass hurt from where he had landed with quite the jolt on the ground, but he had other things to worry about right now. Such as the possibility of being eaten. Tigers had golden eyes, didn’t they? Wolves, too. (A rational part of him argued that the odds of there being a tiger in an English forest were slim to none, but another part wondered if maybe one had escaped from a circus. Or a zoo. Or maybe had been a pet until it got too big.)

The shrub shivered, and opened up like a curtain. Aziraphale shut his eyes, hoping that whatever it was that wanted to eat him made it quick. He heard a rumbling sound, then felt something on his head. His resolve broke. “Don’t eat me, don’t eat me!”

The rumbling changed into what almost sounded like a wheezing laugh. Aziraphale cracked one eye open. He was staring at an arm. A very tanned and muscular arm, but still an arm. He blinked, opened his eyes, and gasped.

The man standing in front of him was the most beautiful he had ever seen in his life. His hair was the color of fire, and had flowers woven into it(no, not woven, Aziraphale realized after a minute-they were **growing** into his hair). The hair cascaded down the man’s back, shining and gleaming in the moonlight. He had on what looked like a tunic of deer skin, and his extremities were bare. His feet were bare as well, and his large, golden eyes gazed at Aziraphale with open curiosity. “H...hello.” Aziraphale gasped out, still transfixed by the beauty of this man. 

The man blinked at him, then patted his head, reached behind his back and, with a flourish, pulled out a pear. Aziraphale blinked. Where had that come from? The redhead pushed the pear at him. Aziraphale cautiously took it. The man smiled and made eating motions. Aziraphale took a small bite, moaned, and took a bigger one. “Oh my..”

The man clapped his hands together and  danced in place. Aziraphale devoured the pear, and before he could do anything, the man snatched the core and swallowed it down. “Um...my name’s Aziraphale. What’s yours?” The man tilted his head in confusion. Aziraphale sighed, resigning himself, and moved so he could look into the golden eyes. He braced himself for the onslaught and felt…

Nothing. He stared and stared, but there was nothing. No sensations, no thoughts, nothing. Just...a wall of green, and flashes of red and gold. He couldn’t read this man’s thoughts. It was as if…

The man scooted forward until their noses were almost touching. He tilted his head, huffed, and much to Aziraphale’s shock, poked him in the forehead. “Oi! Stop that.” The man huffed again. Aziraphale sighed. “Aziraphale.” He pressed his hands to his chest, then pointed at his...companion? “You?”

The man blinked, grinned, and said something utterly incomprehensible. It appeared to be a combination of the trill of a bird, the growl of a wolf, and rushing water. Aziraphale shook his head. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t...”

The man pouted, then brightened. He held out his empty hand, then twisted his wrist. Aziraphale gasped again when a fruit he had never seen before appeared out of thin air. It was the shape of an apple, but the skin was bright purple and it gave off a mossy odor. The man held it out to him. “Ahh, well, I...no thank you.” The man shook his head and pressed it into Aziraphale’s hand, once again making eating motions and nodding his head. 

Aziraphale, perhaps realizing that this night couldn’t possibly get any weirder, shrugged and bit into the fruit. “UGH!” The bitter taste made him shiver, and he nearly spat it out. But somehow he managed to swallow it, wincing all the way down. The redhead motioned for him to eat more. 

“Taste bad, I know. But make it so you understand.”

Aziraphale gaped at the redhead, who smiled. “Name Crowley. You are..Az..Fell?”

“A-zira-phale.” 

Crowley shook his head. “Hard name. You Pear. Shape like.” Aziraphale frowned at him. “Like pears. Rose voice. Soft. Why live in cave?”

“Cave? What? You mean the house?” Crowley nodded.

“Strange cave. Why live there?”

Aziraphale sighed. “I...had to get away from where I was living. It was...too noisy.”

Crowley huffed. “Humans make lots noise. Scare Crowley’s friends. Crowley protect them.”

Aziraphale blinked. “I suppose we do. But...you’re human.” Crowley snarled. 

“Am not. Crowley Guardian. Forest mine. All forest mine. I protect. Not human! Not human! NOT HUMAN!” His eyes were blazing in rage, and Aziraphale gulped as he realized that thorns were starting to erupt from the ground, wicked looking thorns that could tear easily through clothes and skin. He held up a hand. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” 

The thorns receded. Crowley surged forward and grabbed his shirt. “Never. Call. Me. Human.” He snarled, and Aziraphale wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the moonlight or if Crowley really did have fangs. “Crowley not one of you.” 

“Of course, I understand, I’m so sorry, please forgive me, I’m sorry.” Aziraphale said, shaking in fear. Crowley sighed and patted his head. 

“Not mean to scare. Want to be friends.”

Aziraphale blinked. “You do?” Crowley nodded. “Why?”

Crowley sat cross legged in front of him. “You sense Crowley. I watch you come to cave. Had strange things. Were for eating?”

“What strange things?” 

Crowley frowned. “Small. Lots of them. You eat them?”

Aziraphale thought. “Small...lots of..oh, you mean my books!” 

“What books? Are they food?”

Aziraphale smiled. “In a way. They’re food for the mind. I read them.” Crowley blinked. “Do you know what reading is?” Crowley shook his head. “Oh, you poor thing! Reading is...it’s the most wonderful thing ever! It takes you places, and it opens up new worlds, and there’s magic in it, and tragedy, and...oh dear, I’m rambling.”

“Crowley like you ramble. Rose voice is nice. But you go now. Late. Sleep time.” Crowley stood, and helped Aziraphale to his feet. Aziraphale gulped as he realized just how tall this...being was. “When sun in sky, come to edge of forest.” 

Aziraphale nodded. “O...of course. I...it was nice meeting you, Crowley.”

“Nice meeting Pear too. Go to cave. Sleep.” Aziraphale turned and was heading back down the path when Crowley appeared in front of him. 

“Jesus! How did you do that?” Aziraphale asked, clutching his chest. 

“Forest mine. Can do anything. Here.” He reached into his hair and pulled out a rose. “A rose for Rose Voice. So not think you dreamed.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Now go sleep. Forest show you path out. You be safe.” Crowley said before jumping up into the trees. “Remember, come to edge when sun in sky!” He darted off like a monkey, and Aziraphale watched for as long as he could. 

Aziraphale turned towards what he hoped was the right direction. He started down the path, and much to his shock a tree branch blocked him. “Uhh...” The branch gently pushed him in the opposite direction, and he remembered what Crowley had said. “Th..thank you?” The branch rustled. 

Aziraphale made his way back to his house, occasionally guided by a gentle nudge from a tree branch. When he reached the edge, he patted one of the trees. “Thank you, my dears.” He stumbled back up to the house, unlocked the door, and staggered into his bedroom. He collapsed on the bed, not even bothering to take his trainers off. He was asleep the second his head hit the pillow. 

The next morning, he would have dismissed the excursion of the night before as a dream were it not for the fact he still had his trainers on, he had sap on his fingers, and clutched in his hand was the rose Crowley had given him. But his rational mind argued that perhaps he had simply sleepwalked, and the rose was from his own bush in his garden. The fact that his were tea roses and this one clearly was not was ignored by his rational mind. But where had the sap come from? He had no trees in his garden, at least none that produced sap that smelled like...Aziraphale sniffed his fingers...like apples. And why did his trainers have dirt in the sole? 

He fixed himself a cup of very strong coffee and went out onto his back porch, looking out across the lake. There  were some fish jumping, but that was all. He could just barely make out the shape of his neighbor’s house across the water. Aziraphale lifted his mug. 

The lake rippled, and Aziraphale gasped aloud as a shape emerged from the water. The shape was tall, with red hair, and Aziraphale felt himself relax. Crowley tossed his hair back, and Aziraphale clutched onto the porch railing. If he had thought Crowley’s hair beautiful in the moonlight, it was downright gorgeous in the sun. The rays lit his hair on fire, making it look like it was ablaze. 

Crowley walked out of the lake, and Aziraphale nearly swooned. Oh dear Someone, he was naked. Droplets of water flowed down a tanned, smooth, muscular chest, to hips that made the blond whimper, then to long, strong legs, and…. “Ohmygod.” Aziraphale turned away, blushing hotly. 

On the shore, Crowley shook himself dry, then picked up his skin and put it on before shaking out his hair. He would get more flowers once he was back in the forest. A movement out of the corner of his eye made him turn. Pear was standing on the back part of his cave, something in his hand, and his mouth was open. Crowley padded across the sand. “What doing?” 

Aziraphale yelped and spun around. “Crowley! You um...you startled me.” He very wisely did not say that he had seen him naked. “How...how are you?”

“Fine. Had swim. What that?” He pointed to Aziraphale’s mug. “Smell funny.”

“It’s uh...it’s coffee. Helps me wake up. Want some?” He tried not to yelp when Crowley jumped up onto the porch railing, crouching there like a bird. This close, Aziraphale swore he could smell moss, dirt, and...apple sap. But it wasn’t an unpleasant smell. Crowley sniffed at the mug, then made a face. 

“Not like smell.” His head darted forward, and he buried his nose in Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Like you smell. Cotton. Nice.” He patted Aziraphale’s head. “Cotton?” 

Aziraphale gently removed his hand. “No, just hair. Yours is quite lovely, you know.”

Crowley beamed. “Is fire. You touch?” Aziraphale blinked, and Crowley took his hand. “It okay. Not burn.” He placed Aziraphale’s hand on his head. 

Aziraphale was going to combust, he knew it. He had never felt hair as soft and silk-smooth as Crowley’s. He wanted to bury himself in it, breathe in the scent of it. Crowley’s hair was warm, but the warmth sent a shiver up Aziraphale’s spine. He let his fingers drift down, running the strands through them, and Crowley blinked, then shut his eyes. 

He had never felt anything like this. His Pear was...it felt nice, whatever it was. Like...Crowley wasn’t sure. But he knew he wanted more. He rumbled, pressing himself into the human’s hand. 

Aziraphale smiled to himself at the peaceful look on Crowley’s face. He continued to card his fingers through the fire tresses, and Crowley hummed, rubbing against him. “Are you enjoying this?” A rumbling purr was all the answer he needed. “You are so beautiful...” Aziraphale whispered in awe. 

Crowley blinked, not really understanding but enjoying the rose-soft voice. “What mean?”

“Oh...um...it means...I...like you.” Aziraphale said, blushing. Crowley smiled.

“You Crowley’s friend!”

“Y..yes, of course. I’m your friend.” Aziraphale smiled back. Crowley clapped his hands and nearly toppled off the rail. “Oh, do be careful!”

“Crowley fine. What Pear doing?”

Aziraphale thought. “Well, I need to go into town at some point and get food.”

“Crowley bring food. Not go into human place. Human place bad.” Crowley declared, a dark frown on his face. “Fish in lake, animals in forest. Can bring Pear food. But no go to human place. Bad thing happen there, long time ‘go.”

“What..what bad thing?”

“Bad thing. No go. Stay.”

Aziraphale frowned. He had come here for isolation, after all, and going into town would not only mean that he would most likely have to find a place to stay overnight, but that he would be once more bombarded by thoughts. “ Well, maybe I won’t. After all, I did come here to stop the...” he clamped his mouth shut. 

“Stop what?”

“I...I don’t know if I can explain. I...you said that I sensed you?” Crowley nodded. He had changed position and was now sitting on the rail, his legs crossed. “Well...I..can...sense things. Other….humans. I can...tell what they’re thinking. It’s um...not very fun. I was...where I lived before, there were a lot of...people, and I was...hurting.”

“So come here and no hurt?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale nodded. “Can tell what Crowley thinking?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “No, I can’t. Last night...when I looked into your eyes, which is usually...how it works, all I saw was...colors. Green, and red, and gold. Just...sensations. Quite frankly, I am relieved.”

Crowley stepped onto the porch. “Want know?”

“No. For once in my life, no. Not being able to read you is...well, quite refreshing, to be frank. Oh, speaking of reading, I’ll be right back!” He ran into the house, emerging moments later with a large leather bound book. “You were asking what a book was. This is a book.” He held it out. Crowley sniffed it, then sneezed. 

“Smell like deer skin.” 

‘Yes, I suppose it does. Um, it’s a book of fairy tales. Do you want me to read one to you?” Crowley blinked. Aziraphale licked his suddenly dry lips. “Right. Um..let’s see...oh, this is a good one.” He cleared his throat. “The Frog Prince. Once upon a time...”

Crowley leaned forward, fascinated as Pear ‘read’ to him. The story was a funny one, about a frog that used to be human and now wasn’t, but then became human again. Crowley didn’t like that part so much. Why would anyone want to be human? Humans were cruel, and violent, and angry, and…

‘This human isn’t.’ A voice in his head spoke. The voice sounded like Crowley, but it spoke differently. ‘He’s kind.’ 

“Shut up.” Crowley hissed to Other Crowley. Aziraphale looked up from the story. “Not Pear. Keep read?”

Aziraphale smiled. “Of course. Let’s see, what next?”

“No turning human story.” 

“Hmm, okay. Well then.” He flipped through the ‘book’. “Aha. The Two Travelers. Once upon a time...”

“Cobbler mean!” Crowley declared. Aziraphale nodded. 

“Yes dear, but he gets his comeuppance in the end. Let me finish.”

Crowley frowned. This wasn’t as funny a story. The cobbler was trying to hurt the tailor for no reason! It wasn’t fair, he thought. The tailor was just...just…

‘ _Please no! Stop! I’m not a demon, I’m not! I don’t how I’m able to make them do that! Please...NOOO...’_

“Crowley!” Aziraphale tossed the book aside. Crowley was curled up on the porch in a fetal position, whining. Aziraphale didn’t dare get close to him, because wicked looking thorns surrounded him on all sides. “Crowley?”

“Not demon not demon not demon not not not...” Crowley whined, shaking. Aziraphale carefully reached for him. A thorn darted forward, and Aziraphale yanked his hand back before it could pierce him. “Stop. Let Pear touch.” The thorns vanished, and Aziraphale placed his hand on Crowley’s shoulder. “No more story.’

“No more story.” Aziraphale agreed. “Are you going to be alright?”

Crowley sat up and nodded. “Crowley be fine. But need go. Pear come with? Spend day in forest?”

“Oh, it sounds...tempting, but I have some things I need to do.” Crowley’s face fell. “But they won’t take me long.”

Crowley beamed again, and Aziraphale felt his heart pound. “Crowley meet you at edge. When done, come to edge and call name. I come.” He stood, and much to Aziraphale’s shock, kissed him on the cheek. “Crowley see Pear soon.” With that, he leaped off the porch and dashed into the trees. 

Aziraphale stood there, his hand on his cheek and a blissed out grin on his face. “Ohh...”

Back in his forest, Crowley was also experiencing a similar emotion. He wasn’t sure why he had done that, but the moment his lips touched his Pear’s skin, his heart had started racing like a jackrabbit. Pear’s skin was so soft, and that close to him, Crowley could smell the cotton scent. 

Crowley sat back against a trunk and sighed, his eyes closed and a smile on his face. 

He wasn’t sure what this feeling was, but he wanted more of it. 


	3. The Man Who Loved Plants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale has a very disturbing dream and Crowley has a rather visceral reaction.

Chapter Three: The Man Who Loved Plants

_The man who loved plants crouched in front of the roses in his garden, stroking the petals gently with his forefinger. “Come on, my beauties. I know you can do it. Grow a bit more.” He beamed in delight when one of the roses seemed to lean toward him, its petals opening in the sun. “That’s my girl! That’s it, just a bit more.” The petals opened wider, and the man who loved plants sat back on his heels and applauded, a giddy look of joy in his eyes. “Oh, very good, all of you!” The other roses seemed to almost rustle with happiness._

_He stood, brushing off his trousers, and went into the house. The larder was nearly bare. The man sighed and went back to the stable, where a black mare stood waiting. “Time for a trip into town, old gal.” The mare snorted. The man got her saddled and bridled, then with a click of his tongue set her off at a gallop._

_When he arrived in the village proper, the man who loved plants tried his best to ignore the eyes and whispers that followed him. He went straight to the grocer’s, tied his horse to the rail outside, and went in, gagging as he always did at the slightly fetid aroma. But he had shopping to do, so he braced himself and went up to the counter._

“ _We ain’t got nothing for you.” The shopkeeper, a rather dirty and crude man, glared at him. “Not for your kind.”_

“ _Please, I just need some bread.” The man reached into his pocket and pulled out some notes. “I’ve got the money.”_

“ _I ain’t touching that, devil. We’ve told you about coming here. Now you get out before I make you.”_

_The man took a breath. “Please, just one loaf. That’s all I ask.”_

_The shopkeeper came around from behind the counter, brandishing a broom. “And I tole you to get out!” He swung the broom, smacking the other man upside the head. “Devil! Warlock! Demon! Out of my shop! Out!” He punctuated each word with a resounding blow to the man’s body. The man who loved plants fled, skidding to a halt at the sight of the crowd that assembled in front of the store._

_Something whizzed through the air and grazed his ear. He pressed his hand to it, and his fingers came away bloody. A second object whizzed, this one smacking him in the mouth, and he realized with horror that they were throwing rocks at him. “Please! Stop!”_

“ _Get out of here!” One of the villagers yelled before throwing a rather good sized rock that bounced off the man’s head. “Demon! Evil one! Get out!”_

_The man ran to his horse and somehow managed to mount her. The mare, already excitable under normal circumstances, was snorting and rearing like a wild mustang. He turned her towards the road out, and clicked his tongue as best as he could. She took off, and the man who loved plants rode out of the village._

Aziraphale sat bolt upright, panting. He had never had such a vivid dream before. Shaking, he ran his hands down his face. There had been a man, but his face and features were blurred. But what had been clear was the animosity the other people in the dream had felt for this man. He had been chased out of the village under the threat of a stoning! Aziraphale felt oddly protective of whoever this man might be.

He glanced over at his clock. Six thirty. Sighing, he got out of bed and went to the bathroom. After finishing his business, he got dressed, fixed himself a cup of coffee, and went out onto the side part of his wraparound porch. His garden-really it was just a few tea roses he had planted when he first moved in-was looking good, and Aziraphale watered the roses.

“What doing?”

Aziraphale tried not to have a heart attack when Crowley appeared from the roof, hanging upside down from the eaves and grinning at him. “Crowley! You scared me half to death! What are you holding onto!”

“Crowley not get hurt. What Pear doing?”

Aziraphale felt his heart get back to some semblance of normal. “I was watering my roses.” Crowley flipped off the roof and crouched in front of the roses, sniffing. “I...they’re tea roses.”

“Can make bigger.” He blinked, then sniffed at one of the bushes. “This one dying. Rotten on inside.”

Aziraphale’s face fell. “Oh dear. Can I do anything?” Crowley looked up and shook his head.

“No. It die soon.” Aziraphale’s lip wobbled, and Crowley clambered up onto the porch rail and patted his shoulder. “Not cry. Death part of life. Use dead bush to keep live one.”

“Oh, of course.” Aziraphale sipped at his coffee. Crowley made a face.

“Pear still drink smell bad drink.”

“Er, yes.” Aziraphale said, a bit affronted(and still a bit disconcerted from his dream) “Crowley, have you...ever had a real vivid dream?”

“What dream?”

Aziraphale blinked. “Oh. It’s um...like...pictures, in your head, when you sleep.” Crowley’s golden eyes were wide in confusion. “R..Right. Well. In my dream, there was..a man. I couldn’t really see him, but he was tall. He was in a village, someplace. The villagers...they didn’t like him.”

Crowley was shaking. “Rocks. Hurt. Ran. Not know why, but...”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “Yes! How did you know?”

Crowley shook his head. “No. Not tell. Pear not ask!”

“But...’

“NO! PEAR NOT ASK CROWLEY! CROWLEY NOT KNOW!” Crowley screamed, and Aziraphale leaped back as the thorns erupted from the wooden porch floor. Crowley himself looked like a wild thing, his fangs bared and his eyes blazing with rage and sorrow. His hair was twisting by itself.

“I’m sorry!” Aziraphale babbled. “I won’t ask, I’m sorry!”

Crowley whimpered like a lost soul. The thorns vanished, and Crowley hung his head. A strange sound was coming from him, and it took Aziraphale a moment to realize he was crying. “Not remember. Don’t make remember, please.”

Aziraphale came forward and gently pulled Crowley’s head down until it rested on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I never mean to hurt you, and yet...”

“No. Pear not hurt Crowley. Couldn’t.”

Aziraphale stroked his hair. This close, he could smell the heady combination of dirt, moss, and sap that was so uniquely **Crowley.** “I would never, not in a million years.” Crowley sighed and then did something that shocked them both. 

He wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, pulling him close. Aziraphale blinked, them closed his eyes in happiness. “Smell nice.” Crowley whispered into Aziraphale’s ear. “Pear smell nice.”

“Crowley smell nice.” Aziraphale replied, grinning at him. Crowley blushed. “Oh, you beauty...” Aziraphale whispered, stroking his face. “A spirit of the forest come to beautiful life.”

“Not spirit. Guardian.” Crowley said, mesmerized by Aziraphale’s blue eyes. “Pear have sky eyes.”

Aziraphale smiled. “And you, my gorgeous Guardian, have eyes of the sun. They’re fire and gold and...oh, Crowley. Do you have any idea of the beauty you possess?”

Crowley’s heart was racing. What was this feeling? He wanted to keep nuzzling his Pear, but he also wanted more. Much, much more. He found himself wondering if Pear tasted like pears, or if he tasted like something else. He stared at the plump, soft lips. Before he could do or say anything, Pear was leaning forward, and then...ohh….those soft lips were pressed to Crowley’s, and the guardian felt a rush of giddiness. 

Flowers of all description suddenly erupted onto the porch, the railing, and the eaves. Aziraphale, mind reeling from the taste of Crowley(sun and soil and petrichor) didn’t notice them until one bold azalea wrapped itself around his head. He looked up, laughing. “Oh my goodness!”

Crowley looked punch drunk, a giddy smile on his face. “ Sorry.”

“No, don’t be! This is marvelous. They’re so beautiful.” He pressed Crowley’s face into his hand. “Like their master.” Aziraphale stepped closer, bracing Crowley in between his legs. “Now. Let’s see what happens when I give you a proper kiss.” And with that, he pulled Crowley into a kiss that would make the books. 

Crowley reeled. His Pear was everywhere, and he tasted of flowers and fruit and honey and...oh his lips were so soft and his tongue was probing Crowley’s mouth and licking inside and Crowley was going to die, he was going to die from the feel and the taste and he was...his lips were moving against Pear’s in what was maybe a ‘kiss’, and it felt so nice, and he never wanted it to end, wanted it to last forever…

Crowley whined when Aziraphale broke the kiss. The blond’s face was flushed, and his lips were swollen. He looked around and laughed. The porch couldn’t be seen for the plants and flowers that adorned it. There were roses and apple saplings and irises and peach saplings and pears and willows and maple saplings. And all of them were inclined towards the pair of them. Flowers were winding up Crowley’s legs and arms, and more were in his hair. Aziraphale couldn’t stop staring. “Oh my...”

Crowley blinked, then held out a hand. A rose and two irises moved from his arm, to the hand, then up Aziraphale’s arm to wind themselves into his hair. Aziraphale blinked back tears. “Thank you.”

Crowley smiled. “Pear welcome.”

Aziraphale pressed their foreheads together, breathing Crowley in. He was so at peace here, so happy, so…

The phone in the house rang shrilly. Crowley yelped and jumped up onto the railing, a snarl on his face. “Not like noise.”

“Neither do I , but if I don’t answer it the noise will just keep going. I...you can come inside, if you want.”

Crowley shook his head. “Not go in cave. Crowley scared of cave.”

“Why?”

Crowley turned away. “Smell like fire. Crowley not like fire.” Aziraphale was extremely puzzled. While it was true the house had a rather ornate fireplace, it hadn’t been lit yet, and the only scent he could detect was a bit of mold that he needed to take care of. “Go make noise stop.” 

Aziraphale went into the house and picked up the shrilling phone. He could just make out Crowley standing on the porch, looking at the house with an almost sorrowful expression. “Aziraphale Fell speaking.”

“Aziraphale!” Gabriel’s far too cheery for bloody seven am voice grated through the lines, and Aziraphale fought the urge to hang up.”How’s it going? When are you coming home?”

“Fine, and fuck you, I am home.” 

“Aziraphale, we’ve talked about this. I need to be able to monitor you, in case you have another episode.”

Aziraphale squeezed the phone so hard his knuckles were white. “Gabriel. I am not schizophrenic. I do not have any...how was it you put it...mental aberrations. I am a bloody telepath, thanks to that goddamned accident I was in. I nearly died, if you recall. Oh, I’m sure you do, BECAUSE YOU WERE THE BLOODY DRIVER! You walk away with minor injuries, while I spend weeks in hospital hearing things, realizing the voices are in my head, going to quack after quack trying to make them stop. Then you...lock me up, drug me up until I can’t even think my own thoughts, and  make it so I have to lie and say, yes, the voices are gone, while the whispering is so loud it’s all I can hear! Don’t you dare try and act like the righteous brother. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!” He slammed the phone down and stood there, panting, tears of rage in his eyes. 

The accident...Aziraphale had been riding with Gabriel, going someplace-perhaps to the store, or maybe just for a drive, and they had been arguing. As usual. Gabriel had always been an egoist, someone who only liked people for how they could make him look good. Aziraphale had once said that he took after their father in that regard. 

Regardless of the argument, it had gotten heated, with Gabriel turning his head to scream at his brother. They both saw the lorry too late. Gabriel’s car hit it head on, and the last thing Aziraphale remembered before waking up in a hospital bed was a large chunk of masonry coming off the lorry roof and right through the windscreen. 

Gabriel had of course shuffled all the blame onto Aziraphale. Their parents, thrilled that their golden child was unhurt, turned their wrath to the disappointment. He had been tossed out of the house. 

“Pear?” Crowley’s concerned voice jerked Aziraphale out of his memories. He was standing just outside the sliding door. “Pear okay?”

“I...I will be. It’s...Gabriel, he always brings out...bad things.”

“Who Gabriel?”

Aziraphale sighed and walked out to the porch, Crowley stepping aside for him. Aziraphale leaned against the railing. “My brother. My older brother. He’s….not like me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. But he’s...my parents’ favorite. Probably because he...chose the right...partner. He’s married to a woman.”

“Why?”

Aziraphale blinked. “Um...well, normally I would say it was because of love, but I honestly don’t think Gabriel is capable of that. Let’s just say it’s for...appearance.”

“Pear like female species?”

Aziraphale laughed. “No. Pear much prefer male species. Of course, my preference right now is drop dead gorgeous Forest Guardians with fire hair and sunbeam eyes.” 

Crowley blushed deep red. “Crowley like Pear. Spend day again?”

Aziraphale beamed. He loved spending the day with Crowley. It meant Crowley showing him around the forest. It meant warm sun and soil and fruit plucked from trees. It meant going back to Crowley’s ‘home’ (a clearing deep in the forest that had a small cave made of tree branches and limbs, and stretching out on the sinfully soft grass. It meant Crowley’s head in his lap(a recent development) while the Guardian wove flower crowns and placed them on Aziraphale’s head. It meant reading to him. “After all these weeks, my darling, do you have to ask?”

“Yes.” 

Aziraphale took his hand. “You know I will, my dearest. Always.”


	4. And When The Heart Was Open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams, loves, hurts, and comforts.

Chapter Four: And When The Heart Was Open

When the child was born, every flower in the garden bloomed.

When the child was born, the midwife saw his golden eyes and declared he was not of this world.

When the child cried, thorns pierced the flesh of the midwife, thorns no one could remember ever seeing before.

When the child was a baby, his parents found him in his room, holding a pile of roses in his hands and laughing in glee. The roses were not from the garden.

When the child grew older, plants and flowers sprang up where he walked. His corner of the garden flourished, even when every other part withered and died.

When the child was old enough to talk, he held long conversations with the trees, and his parents could swear that the trees talked back.

When the priests came and the beatings began and his parents began to hate and fear him, when the whispers and rumors and hatred of the villagers began, the child-now more a young man-retreated into the forest, where he felt safe. The forest welcomed him, enveloped him in Her Embrace.

When the man returned, the house was cold and dark. His parents had died. He felt the loss, but did not process it. They had been cruel. He set about trying to live in the house, trying to be accepted in the village.

When they chased him out that first time, throwing rotten tomatoes and rocks and bottles and yelling ugly words that tore into him like thorns, when they swore if he ever returned he would regret it, the man began to realize he was different.

When the villagers showed up at his house, their eyes angry, torches in their hands and with ropes and knives and clubs, the man realized just how different he was…

“AAAAGGHHH!” Crowley sat bolt upright, golden eyes wide with horror. Shaking, he drew his knees to his chest and shivered, panting. He had these-thoughts, once in a while. He didn’t know where they came from, but they always left him scared, shaking, and wondering why. He wasn’t a man. He had never been a man. He was the Guardian. That was who he had always been. That was who he would always be. So why the thoughts that plagued him?

He shook himself and walked out of his cave, not paying attention to the flowers that bloomed where he walked. He plucked an apple and ate it, his eyes still haunted. He swallowed down the core then climbed up one of his trees and headed for the lake. A morning swim and a visit to his Pear would help clear his head.

Crowley’s heart raced as it always did now whenever he thought of the human. If he went a day without seeing him, he felt sick and shaky, like a dying tree. His Pear was becoming a vital part of Crowley’s life. The scent of him, the feel of him, the...Crowley touched his lips, sighing. They ‘kissed’ quite a lot these days, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that Crowley had very good control over his abilities, the entire house(as Pear told him it was called) would be buried in flora.

Crowley arrived at the lake. He slid down one of the trees and ran in, diving under and coming back up with a cry of relief.

“I’ve an intruder in my lake!” Crowley spun around. His Pear was standing on the shore, a smile on his face. “How’s the water?”

“Feel nice. Come in?” Crowley asked, not really expecting an answer. So he was shocked frozen when Pear took off his ‘shirt’. Crowley whimpered. The man was so nice looking.

“I’m warning you, if this water is cold, I shall be very cross.” Crowley could only nod, mouth open as more of his Pear was revealed. Thick thighs, soft, plump looking legs, and...Crowley wiped his mouth.

Aziraphale waded into the water, wincing. “Cold. But I’ll get used to it.” He swam over to the frozen Crowley. “Hello.”

Crowley gulped. This man was...so beautiful. He reached out and cupped Aziraphale’s cheek. “Real?” He couldn’t be. Someone this...ethereal(and Crowley wondered how he knew a word like that) couldn’t be real.

“Of course I am, my darling.” Aziraphale whispered, lifting Crowley’s other hand and kissing the palm. “I’m real.”

Crowley shivered, but not from the cold of the lake(and really, if he wanted he could make it so he didn’t feel the cold at all). “Kiss me?”

Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s face in his hands and pulled him into a deep kiss. On the shore, daises erupted from the sand. Aziraphale kept kissing him, pulling him close. Crowley was shaking. He needed more, wanted more. He wanted to…

“Pear mate?”

Aziraphale pulled away and blinked. “What?”

Crowley gulped. “Like animals do when is time. Crowley want...be Pear’s mate.”

Aziraphale’s face softened. “Crowley, do you want to have sex with me?” Crowley blushed, looking down at his reflection in the water.

“Want Mate. Pear want?”

Aziraphale kissed him. “My love...I have thought of nothing else for weeks. You intoxicate me. Have you ever…?”

“No. Mate is forever.”

Aziraphale decided that Crowley would probably not grasp the concept of one night stands done while terribly drunk and regretting them the next morning. Being able to read the mind of the man you’re fucking tends to take all the mystery out of it.

Aziraphale always made sure to get tested after every ‘session.’ He wasn’t taking any chances. And really, after his...stay in the ‘resort’, sex had been off the table for good.

Until he had come here and met this beautiful creature. Crowley intoxicated him, drew him in like a moth to a flame, and Aziraphale had fallen hard and fast. Not being able to read his mind was a balm, a breath of fresh air.

Now if only he could stop having the dreams. His latest one had been almost like a photo album being flipped-a baby born and flowers blooming, roses in a nursery, thorns, priests shouting words and waving crucifixes, a child screaming as he was nearly drowned, pleads and cries as blow after blow landed, rocks and knives and anger and terror and…

“Pear?” Crowley’s voice made him startle back to the present. “What wrong?”

“N..nothing. I’m just...a bit chilly. Can we go onshore?” Crowley nodded, and they sloshed onto shore. Crowley waved a hand, and a bed of soft grass sprang up. They sat, and Crowley plucked handfuls of the grass and gently rubbed Aziraphale’s arms. “I’m sorry, my love. I’ve been having rather vivid dreams, and I’m afraid they kept me up rather late.”

“Want tell?”

Aziraphale sighed. “The last one, it was...like a..photograph album. Remember, the one I showed you?” Crowley nodded. “There was a baby, and flowers blooming, and thorns...”

“They pierced her flesh and she fainted.” Crowley’s voice sounded far away. “Called him devil.”

Aziraphale turned to face him. “How do you know this, Crowley?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” Crowley screamed, his hands over his ears. “Thoughts...all the time, of...someone. But it’s not me. Not me. Crowley never human. Crowley Guardian. Always, always, always, always...” he curled up on himself, shaking. “Always...”

Aziraphale reached out and placed his hand on Crowley’s back. The guardian jerked, looked over at him, and with a cry threw himself into Aziraphale’s arms. “I don’t know what I am anymore.” He whispered. Aziraphale decided not to be too startled at the complete sentence. “Always have...thoughts, but could hide. No hiding.”

“Oh, my love. I wish I had the answers.” Aziraphale said, stroking his long hair. “But I can tell you this. You are beautiful, kind, clever, witty, oh so powerful, and I love you with all my heart.”

Crowley sighed as Aziraphale began kissing his neck. “Ohh...still want mate.”

Aziraphale chuckled against his skin. “So do I, my love. Lie back.” Crowley laid back on the grass, staring wide eyed at Aziraphale. The blond smiled down at him. “You’re so very beautiful. And I am going to show you just how much.” He lowered himself and kissed Crowley deeply, stroking his arms, chest, and legs with a loving touch. Crowley whimpered in desire. “I love you, Crowley. More than I could ever say.” Aziraphale whispered against his throat, licking the smooth flesh. He kissed the hollow, then kissed his chest. Crowley hissed, and marigolds appeared. Aziraphale smiled to himself.

He made his way down Crowley’s perfect body, sucking deep kisses in every bit of the sun-warmed flesh. Crowley yelped, yipped, sighed, and moaned, and the shore of the lake was beginning to resemble a wild garden. Aziraphale sucked and kissed down Crowley’s legs, then back up to Crowley’s throbbing cock. It was so perfect, so long and thick that it made Aziraphale’s mouth water. He pressed his tongue to it. Crowley screeched and every tree on shore suddenly burst into bloom-even the trees that didn’t have flowers.

Aziraphale swallowed him down, swirling his tongue, and Crowley howled like a wolf. Aziraphale held him down while he sucked, relishing in the cries that were coming from his mouth.

Crowley’s head was on fire. Pear had been kissing him, and that had been oh so good, and Crowley loved that, and then...Pear had taken him into his mouth, and was doing things, wonderful things, blissful things, and Crowley was on fire, he was shaking, he was coming apart, and stars were in his eyes and in front of his eyes, and he was screaming, but with the screaming came a floaty, shivery feeling that went on and on and made him feel more alive than he ever had, and his body was shaking, and he was panting, and Pear was smiling down at him, sky eyes bright, and Crowley felt the fire in his head spread down to his heart, to his lungs and arms and legs.

“Oh, my love.” Aziraphale kissed him softly. “You are doing so well.” He traced Crowley’s cleft with a finger, and the guardian whimpered. “Let me take you apart some more.” Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale gently lifted his legs and scooted closer. “I love you. So much.” He murmured in Crowley’s ear before lining his cock up with Crowley’s hole and slowly, gently pushing in.

Crowley had never, in all his life, felt anything like this. It burned, but in the best way. Pear was inside him and around him and Crowley cried and breathed him in and kissed him and kissed him and then, oh and then Pear began moving, and Crowley was a flame, he was helpless, he couldn’t do anything except breathe him in and cry and beg.

“More...more...”

Aziraphale thrust into him, mind reeling at the perfect, tight heat of him, the sap and soil and moss smell of him, the fire in his hair, the flowers all around. “I love you...I love you...I love you...” He growled with each thrust. “Crowley...say my name.”

“Aziraphale...” Crowley moaned. Aziraphale increased his pace.

“Again.”

“Aziraphale...”

“Again.”

“Aziraphale!”

“Again!”

“AZIRAPHALE!” Crowley’s scream echoed around the lake as he came. Aziraphale fucked him through the orgasm, spilling deep inside him moments later. “I love you I love you I love you...” He babbled, clinging onto the blond as his entire body spasmed and apples rained from the sky.

Aziraphale plucked an apple, bit into it, then handed it to Crowley. Crowley blinked, laughed, and pulled him down into a kiss. “I love you.”

“As do I love you.”

Crowley kissed him then, his hands running up and down Aziraphale’s back, fingers tracing patterns. He wanted to lay forever like this, in the arms of this man. “Pear happy?”

“Pear ecstatic, my love.” Aziraphale said with a smile. “Coming here and meeting you is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Crowley wiggled in delight. “Same. When you first come, I think you like all others. But you not. You Pear, and Pear is Pear. Is perfect.”

“Oh, Crowley...” Aziraphale kissed him and kissed him until neither could stand it anymore and Aziraphale slid inside his forest love once more and rolled them so he was on his back, and grasped Crowley’s waist as the being rode him, his hair twisting and twirling and his entire body undulating, and before Aziraphale’s brain turned to mush from the intense pleasure he thought that for someone who had never had sex before, Crowley was a damn quick learner.

They spent the entire day at the lake, occasionally stopping in between sex sessions that left the both of them panting and wrung out to go swimming. Crowley called up fruits and they ate, and the lake water was cool and refreshing.

Aziraphale had never, in all his thirty five years, had sex as intense and passionate as he had that day. Crowley seemed to know just where to touch, where to kiss, and what to do with his mouth and Aziraphale’s cock to make him scream.

When the stars began to appear, the two of them left the lake and went up to Aziraphale’s house. Aziraphale walked up the steps, then turned. “Come inside. Stay with me.”

Crowley gulped. “Can’t. Please, don’t ask.”

Aziraphale stepped closer. “Please.” He whispered, pain and longing in his voice. Crowley looked down at the ground.

“P...Aziraphale..please don’t ask me. I can’t.”

“Why?!” Aziraphale’s voice cracked. “Why can’t you stay with me? Why can’t you give me this one thing?!”

“Because I can’t.” Crowley’s own voice was broken. “I can’t. I’m so sorry.”

“Well. Then...goodnight, Crowley.” Aziraphale turned and trudged up the steps, closing the door behind him. He sank to the floor and sobbed, his face in his hands.

Crowley stepped up to the door, placing his hand on it. Fire and smoke and blood filled his mind, and he jerked it back. He choked on a sob.

“Pear...I am so sorry...”

The walk back to his clearing home had never seemed so long. He went into his cave, curled up, and cried himself to sleep.

Something was in his cave. Crowley shot awake, his thorns at the ready.

“Crowley, it’s me.” Crowley blinked.

“P...Pear? How?”

Aziraphale stepped into the cave, a blanket in his hands. “Well, since you can’t be with me in my house, I thought...I’d come be with you. I can’t be alone.” The forest had guided him, and Aziraphale had felt no fear of the dark.

Crowley sobbed in happiness this time and opened his arms. Aziraphale came into them. “My dearest love...” he wrapped the blanket around them both, and together they drifted off to sleep.


	5. With Flowers In His Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale's emotions run high, and Gabriel has a sinister plan...

Chapter Five: With Flowers In His Hair

When Aziraphale woke up, he had a moment of brief disorientation before he remembered where he was. Crowley’s ‘cave’ was surprisingly warm and comfortable. The floor was made of soft grass, and the trees that made up the cave walls were bound together so tight that Aziraphale was sure they could withstand any storm, no matter how fierce.

Crowley himself was curled up against Aziraphale, his long arms and legs wrapped around the blond’s. Aziraphale stroked his cheek, breathing in the scent that was so uniquely him. Asleep, the powerful Guardian looked almost...well, human. Crowley’s hair was the only thing that moved. Strands of it crept up Aziraphale’s arm, caressing him, and he smiled and petted it. The hair poked at his shoulder, then lifted itself to point towards the cave. “What?” Another poke, and this time a push. Aziraphale blinked. “I don’t...”

“Wants flowers.” Crowley’s sleepy voice answered. “At mouth. Pick some.”

“Oh. I thought...they just...grew there.”

Crowley snuggled closer. “Crowley flowers yes. But flowers not for me. Go pick. Pretty ones.”

Aziraphale gently untangled himself-receiving a low whimper from Crowley-and went to the mouth of the cave. Sure enough, it was adorned with flowers of all shapes and sizes. Aziraphale picked the prettiest ones he could find and carried them back into the cave. Crowley was awake by now, sitting cross-legged. “Watch Crowley flowers?” Aziraphale nodded. Crowley made a gesture much like brushing his hair.

Aziraphale gasped as flowers appeared in Crowley’s hair, roses and marigolds and irises and bluebells and daisies and a few flowers Aziraphale had never seen before, winding in the crimson locks like they belonged there. When Crowley was done, he motioned for Aziraphale to hand him his bouquet. “Sit.” Aziraphale sat. Crowley placed the flowers on the ground and snapped his fingers. The flowers changed into a crown of flowers. Crowley picked it up and placed it on Aziraphale’s head. “Pear flowers.”

There was nothing to do but kiss him breathless, and that was exactly what Aziraphale did. “I love you.”

Crowley grinned giddily. “Crowley love Pear too.” He scooted forward so he was almost in Aziraphale’s lap. “My Pear.”

“My Guardian.” Aziraphale ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair, down his shoulder, to his arm. “You are my everything, Crowley. I will never, ever leave you.”

Crowley stared into the sky eyes he loved so much. His whole life, he had been hated and feared by others because of his ability. He had been...had been…

“Crowley? Darling, what’s wrong?” One moment Crowley had been gazing moon eyed at him, the next he was against the cave wall, shaking. “Crowley?”

“B..bad thoughts. Not Pear fault.”

“Can you...tell me about them?”

Crowley crawled back over and slid into Aziraphale’s lap, shaking. “Happen lots times. Sometime Crowley wake up make loud noise.”

“You have nightmares?” Aziraphale clarified. Crowley sniffled.

“All time. In night-mare, Crowley not Crowley. Well, is but not. Night-mare Crowley human. But still love plants. Other humans mad. Do...bad thing to Not Crowley. But can’t ‘member more.”

Aziraphale gulped. “In these...nightmares, do you...see the Other Crowley?”

“No. Face all blurry. But know it Not Me. Because human. Crowley not human.”

Aziraphale shut his eyes. “Crowley...in one of the nightmares, is...are there rocks?”

“Yes.” Crowley whispered. “Hurt with rocks. How know?”

“I think...somehow..I’m experiencing them too.”

Crowley pulled away, his face full of shock. “How? Pear can’t read Crowley’s mind!”

Aziraphale wrung his hands. “Somehow, someway, my ability is...manifesting itself in a different way with you. I don’t know how, but...Crowley, I think...I think I’m seeing your memories of when...you were a human.”

“I’M NOT HUMAN!” Crowley yelled, his hands over his ears. “I’m not I’m not I’m not!”

“But you were! Don’t you understand?! Those nightmares, they’re your memories!”

“GET OUT!” Crowley screamed, enraged tears in his eyes. The thorns sprang up, but Aziraphale didn’t budge. “LIAR! I HATE YOU!”

“No, you don’t.” Aziraphale said calmly. Crowley snarled at him. “Crowley.” The guardian blinked at him. “I told you I love you, and I meant it. If I hurt you, I am sorry.”

“I...I can’t be human. I...don’t...remember anything. I don’t remember...I...” Crowley burst into loud sobs and buried his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder. “I’m the Guardian, I...I don’t want to remember, don’t ask me to remember...”

Aziraphale rocked him, cooing softly. “I won’t. I promise.” Crowley snuffled loudly and looked up at the blond. “Not hate Crowley?”

“Never, my dearest darling. Never.”

Crowley rubbed his head against Aziraphale’s chest. “Crowley not hate Pear. Was mad and scared. Pear..what word? Give for Crowley?”

Aziraphale smiled. “You mean forgive. And yes, of course I do.”

Crowley’s entire body sagged in relief. “Good. Want go to lake? Swim? Mate more?”

Aziraphale grinned wickedly and lunged, pinning the shocked Crowley beneath him. “Darling, we don’t need to go to the lake for that.” He kissed him deeply, running his fingers through his hair. Crowley mewled and kissed back, gasping when Aziraphale scraped his neck with his teeth.

“P...Pear...”

Aziraphale sucked a kiss into the same spot before taking a bold initiative and biting down. Crowley howled and carnations burst out of the cave walls. Aziraphale licked at the tiny bead of blood, blinked, and stared. “Crowley.”

“Hmm?” Crowley looked up at him, eyes glazed.

“Your blood...it’s...golden.”

Crowley blinked, then shook his head. “Not blood. Sap.”

Aziraphale gaped. “You bleed sap?”

“Uh huh. Apple.” Crowley swiped his finger through the spot and held them out to Aziraphale. “Taste.” He slid his fingers into Aziraphale’s mouth. The taste of apples, ripely plucked and juicy, filled his mouth. “See. Apple.”

“Oh. But um...your...spend, it...” Aziraphale stopped, startled. He had been so caught up in the heady pleasure of Crowley that his brain hadn’t registered that… “You taste like apples. That’s why I always smell apples around you.”

Crowley blushed. “Is good taste?”

Aziraphale gave him a smile that made him gulp. “Is best taste.” He kissed Crowley hard, and the redhead kissed back, pulling Aziraphale closer and delving his tongue into the blond’s mouth. The taste of apples flooded Aziraphale’s senses, and he sighed, chasing the taste with his own tongue. Crowley’s hands slid down Aziraphale’s naked body and gave his ass a squeeze that made the blond yelp in shocked delight. “Crowley!”

Crowley giggled and scraped the flesh with his nails. This time the gasp was louder, and Aziraphale rutted hard against him. Crowley howled. “PEAR!”

Aziraphale smirked. “My love, you play with fire, and you will get burned.” He sucked a hard kiss onto Crowley’s right nipple, and Crowley yipped.

“Want taste….”

“Hmm?”

Crowley managed to get himself under some semblance of control. “Want...taste...Pear.”

Aziraphale looked up at him, a wicked smile on his face. “You want to suck my cock?” Crowley nodded. Aziraphale kissed him, then rolled over so he was on his back. He stroked himself, sighing. “I want that too...oh, how I want it...”

Crowley moved so he was lying between Aziraphale’s legs. He reached out and stroked his cock, and Aziraphale sighed. Crowley gulped. He wasn’t really sure what to do. Pear’s...’cock’ looked so delicious, so thick and long. This close, Crowley could smell the beautiful scent that was his Pear. Crowley thought about how Pear had sucked him, how wonderful it had felt.

Crowley lowered himself down and pressed his tongue to Aziraphale’s cock. It was so silky, so smooth, and he could taste his Pear-a heady combination of sage and musk. He licked the cock, and above him Aziraphale gasped out his name.

Crowley took his time experimenting, licking, kissing, and even blowing(and that made Pear go into an arch and scream) before taking a deep breath and swallowing him down. He sucked a bit, hollowing his cheeks, and Aziraphale howled his name.

“OH GOD CROWLEY YES!” Aziraphale felt his eyes roll into the back of his head as Crowley sucked him down. It seemed that he had the same talent for sucking cock as he did for sex, and Aziraphale was quickly becoming undone with pleasure. He grasped Crowley’s shoulders and swiveled his hips, thrusting deep into his mouth with incoherent cries of pleasure.

Aziraphale’s vision whited out as he came. Crowley swallowed him, groaning in pleasure. “Pear taste so good...”

“T..take me...” Aziraphale gasped, shivering. He whined deep in his throat and reached for Crowley. “Take me...please...inside...”

Crowley sat up on his haunches. His cock was rock hard and leaking. “Crowley not know how.” Aziraphale blinked, then with a snarl scooted himself forward so Crowley’s cock was lined up with his hole. He took Crowley in hand and guided him.

“Feel that?” Crowley whined and nodded. “Push inside. You won’t hurt me.” Crowley shut his eyes. “No. Keep your eyes open. Look at me.” Crowley stared deep into the sky eyes as he slowly pushed into the tight heat of his Pear. “Oh...god..Crowley...”

Crowley moaned. This was...this was...perfection. Being inside Pear was better than anything he could ever have imagined. Pear was tight and hot and perfect. Crowley didn’t ever want to leave.

“Move...please...” Aziraphale groaned, and Crowley swiveled his hips. Aziraphale howled. Crowley snapped his hips, going faster and harder with each thrust. Aziraphale screeched and clung to him, riding the tidal waves of pleasure.

Crowley came first, a cry pouring from his mouth as roses of every color burst up from the cave floor. Aziraphale screamed in pleasure and came seconds later, his thick, ropy spend splattering across both their chests. Crowley fell against Aziraphale’s chest, both of them panting. Aziraphale swiped a hand through their chests, then, his eyes fixed on Crowley, slid it into his mouth and sucked his fingers clean. Crowley growled. “Pear...”

Aziraphale smiled innocently. ‘What, did you want a taste?” He leaned forward and kissed Crowley deeply. “How’s that?”

Crowley hummed in happiness. “Very good.” He snuggled up to Aziraphale. “Still want spend day at lake. Then Pear read to Crowley?”

“Sounds perfect, my love.”

When they arrived at the lake, however, Crowley stopped. He made a gesture for Aziraphale to wait where he was before shooting up a tree and running off. Aziraphale, puzzled, leaned against a trunk and waited.

Crowley dropped out from the branches moments later, looking worried. “Someone at Pear cave.”

Aziraphale gaped. “Who? Where?”

“Crowley not know who. Waiting on outside part. In rocky thing.” He meant the swing that Aziraphale had bought a few weeks ago via Amazon. “Also noisy animal in long part.”

“There’s a car? What’s it look like?”

“Is color of grapes, but not ripe.”

Aziraphale face palmed. “Bloody buggering fuck...” Crowley looked worried. “I’ll be right back.” Aziraphale turned and walked towards his house. Concerned, Crowley climbed into his trees and followed, a silent shadow.

Aziraphale approached his house, his head already starting to pound. ‘Been waiting for hours, ungrateful brat, so much potential here, ripe for developing, get a crew in...’

“Hello, Gabriel. What the fuck are you doing here?” Aziraphale didn’t have the patience to be polite. His brother’s surface thoughts were always the same. Greed and ego and patronizing and...Aziraphale rubbed his temples, wishing desperately for a drink.

Gabriel smiled at him. The smile did not reach his eyes. “I can’t check up on my brother?”

“No, you can’t. Not without a motive. So again, what the fuck are you doing here? And how did you find me?” Aziraphale staggered into the house. Gabriel stood and started to follow, and Aziraphale shut the sliding door in his face. He went into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of whiskey out of a cupboard and opening it, pouring himself two fingers without ice and gulping it down.

“Aziraphale, you need to come home.” Gabriel had come inside, and Aziraphale glared at him.

“Didn’t say you could come in. So just...bugger off.” He poured himself another glass. “Y’know, I haven’t had to drink since moving here? I’s quiet. No thoughts floating around ‘cept for mine. So, piss off.”

Gabriel was still smiling, and Aziraphale felt an urge to punch that sanctimonious face. “I talked with Doctor Roman. She thinks she might have found a new medicine, one that would...”

“Would what, Gabriel? Turn me into a zombie? Make the ‘voices’ stop?” He poured another drink, this time filling the glass almost to the brim. “You don’t get it. I can read minds. Your mind is so fucking shallow, did you know that? All you think of is yourself, and how the world can better accommodate you. Oh, I don’t appreciate being thought of as a brat, and there is no way in hell you are touching that forest.” ‘Crowley would not like that.’

“Aziraphale, I’m only trying to...”

“Get my money? Declare me mentally unfit so you can buy my bookshop out from under me and turn it into a row of sleek and ugly cafes where people pay exorbitant prices for mediocre coffee? Well, I hate to tell you this...” Aziraphale swayed a bit and hiccuped. “That ain’t gonna happen, so jus’...bugger off back to London.”

Gabriel frowned. “Very well. But this isn’t over, Aziraphale. You need to be someplace where you can be monitored.” Aziraphale swigged straight from the bottle and shot him the bird with his free hand.

Crowley watched as the other human came out of Pear’s cave, his face like thunder. He stopped at the noisy animal and pulled something out of his shirt. “Hello? Yeah, it’s me. We’re going to have to get aggressive. Meet me outside Mayfair. I should be back by morning.” He put the object back and got inside the animal.

Crowley watched him leave, worried. Was Pear in trouble? He made his way over to Pear’s cave, standing on the ‘porch’ and peering inside. “Pear?” He jumped back as Pear came staggering out. Crowley made a face. “Pear smell funny.”

Aziraphale blinked drunkenly at him. “Do I? Must be the whiskey.” He held out the half empty bottle. “Want some?” Crowley stuck out his tongue in disgust. “More for me, then.” He took a long swallow and staggered against the rail. “It’s...helping to stop the whispers.” He blinked. “Helps.”

Crowley frowned. He wasn’t sure he liked Pear like this. “Not like Pear smell.”

“Oooh, I’m so sorry! But I tell you what. You can jus’...bugger off back to your cave, an’...I’ll stay here and drink until I pass out **because that’s the only way to stop hearing my brother’s thoughts because they won’t leave unless I’m pickled! So fuck off!** ” Aziraphale screamed. Crowley blinked, then came over and plucked the bottle from his hands. “Give that back!” 

Crowley twisted his hands, and vines grew around and into the bottle. In seconds, it was covered with greenery. Another twist of the forest being’s hands, and the vines and bottle vanished. Aziraphale gaped at him, then with a scream of rage threw himself at Crowley, pounding at him with his fists.

“You fucking bastard, I needed that, you don’t understand, I need it to stop the whispering, I need it I need it I..” Aziraphale burst into loud, heaving sobs and collapsed against Crowley. “I never asked for this. I hate it. I hate it so much. I never know what thoughts are mine and what are others, and I was going mad, and...Gabriel, he...he said he was going to send me to a special hospital, where they would understand, and I was so desperate for it to stop, that I agreed.”

Crowley sat down on the rocky thing, pulling Pear down with him. “What happen?”

Aziraphale shivered. Even now, the memory of that...place made him break out in a cold sweat. “It was...horrible. I was locked in this tiny...cave, no lights, and my bed was hard. The cave was so cold that I could see my breath, and I didn’t have anything to wear except a pair of pajamas with holes in them. I was taken out of the tiny cave four times a day and brought to another, larger cave. This one was so bright that it made my eyes burn. There were other people, doctors, and they poked and prodded and whispered and asked so many questions, questions I couldn’t answer, and they shoved needles in me and forced pills down my throat, but nothing helped. The whispers grew louder, and when the doctors looked me in the eyes I knew that they didn’t care about curing me, they just wanted to study me, dissect me, take me apart, break me until I was a zombie.”

Crowley kissed his head. “What do?”

Aziraphale breathed in the moss scent of his love. “I lied. I told the doctors I wasn’t...hearing the whispers anymore, and that I was all better. Gabriel tried to get them to keep me, but I put on quite the performance and was able to get released. Gabriel was furious.”

Crowley  gulped. “Crowley hear Gabriel. Was talking in square thing. Said...”...Crowley screwed up his face in thought. “It’s me. We’ll have to get aggressive.”

Aziraphale frowned in worry. “That doesn’t sound good.”

**Mayfair**

Gabriel smiled across the table at his companion. “So everything’s set?”

“Yep. You got the directions, and we’ll come with ya when you sadly have to forcibly commit your poor deluded brother. You got the dosh?”

Gabriel reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Fifty now, the rest once Aziraphale’s back where he belongs, all nice and doped up.” The envelope disappeared into a grimy coat.

“Pleasure doing business with ya.” Gabriel’s companion tipped a grimy hat and exited the pub. Gabriel smiled and sipped his scotch.

One way or another, he was going to get that money.


	6. And The Flames Went Higher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's tragic past finally comes to light.

Chapter Six: And The Flames went Higher

_The plants were screaming. The man struggled wildly, trying to shut out the horrible sounds, but they went on and on. He could hear the villagers laughing, enjoying their cruel sport as they rent and tore and set flaming torches alight. He thrashed in his bonds, blood pouring from the wounds that had already been open by knives, trowels, and cruel hands. The harsh ropes that they had bound him to his house with cut deep into his skin, leaving their own burns. He would have screamed for them to stop, if not for the rope that was stuffed deep into his mouth, opening it up in a rictus of pain._

_He sobbed in rage as he heard his roses die in agony, the flames from the torch turning their beautiful petals to blackened ashes. He howled against the gag and thrashed._

“ _Don’t try to get lose, demon. Those ropes are much too tight.” One of his tormentors, the man that ran the village grocer’s, came over, a cruel smile on his face. “Once we’re done with your precious plants, then we’ll deal with you, demon.”_

_The man tried to deny it, but his cries came out muffled. The grocer slapped him hard across the face._

“ _Don’t pretend denial, demon. No man of God would be able to do what you can do. You’re a devil, a creature of Satan, and the sooner we get rid of you, the better.”_

_The man sobbed, eyes pleading. He didn’t know why they listened to him, why he could make the plants do anything he wanted. He just always could. Brokenly, he reflected that this was somewhat of a fitting end._

_His parents, impressed at first with his green thumb, had grown more and more alarmed as time went by and his ability only grew stronger. In the end, he had been forced to flee his home for fear that they would kill him with their numerous exorcisms, baptisms, and when those didn’t work, the beatings. He had found refuge in the forest, building a shelter and learning how to live off the land. But the urge to be among his own had grown too strong, and so he had come home to find an empty house. Inquiries in the village(made in disguise after that time they chased him out with rocks and bottles) revealed that his parents had died of the fever, and that they were buried in the village cemetery. The man didn’t dare go, knowing that the plants there would sense him and react._

_He moved back into the house and set about trying to make a living as best as he could. Apart from the plants, he had a natural ability for creating and concocting healing balms, salves, and potions. So he would make batches, disguise himself, and ride his mare Bentley into the village._

_Then one day disaster struck. Maybe he hadn’t had his cloak on tight enough. Maybe he had forgotten the clasp. Whatever the reason, a sudden gust of wind had sprung up, and his hood had gone flying. He tried to cover himself back up, but it was too late._

_Bentley had been bleeding from rocks herself by the time he got safely home, and the man himself was covered in blood. That had been the last time he dared go into the village. He thought that would be the end of it._

_How wrong he was._

_They had come for him in the night, sneaking up to the house and forcing their way inside. He had been asleep, and came awake when they grabbed him in their rough hands. He struggled, but they were farmers, built for hard labor, while he was skinny. They beat and kicked him on the bedroom floor before picking him up and dragging him outside. It was strangely bright out, and for a fleeting moment he thought the sun had decided to rise early. But then he smelled the smoke and saw the flames, and with a scream of horror realized where the fire was coming from. He could hear the screams of his garden._

_Two of the villagers came forward with harsh faces and even harsher ropes and bound him hand and foot to a pillar of his porch. They stuffed another rope in his mouth._

_A man stepped through the gathered mob. It was the village priest. He approached the man. “You are the evil one, a child of the devil!” The man frantically shook his head. “Therefore, it is my duty as one of God’s chosen to send you back to the Hell from whence you came! The fire shall cleanse this place of the evil that has befallen it. This house, a dwelling house of evil, shall be burned along with you. So may God’s cleansing fire do the job. Amen.”_

_The man screamed as the first torch touched him. This was pain beyond endearing, this was agony, it was hell, and he felt a white hot hatred for the villagers such as he had never known before, and the hate was all consuming, it burned hotter than the fire, and it grew and grew until hate was all he knew, and with his last breath he vowed in his heart that somehow, someway, he would get revenge…_

Aziraphale, who had been sitting on his porch reading and trying to not think about what Gabriel was up to,(and also not about the horrific nightmare he had just had) jumped twenty feet in the air when Crowley came barreling up the path and jumped into his lap with a wail that echoed around the forest. “Pear help Crowley have bad bad bad dream bad...”

Aziraphale calmed his racing heart and put down his book, wrapping his arms around the shaking being. “Fire, right?” Crowley whimpered and nodded, tears pricking the corner of his eyes. “Me too.”

Crowley whined. “I...don’t want ‘member, but I do. I lie to Pear. Crowley...remember all of it. Can’t stop.” He sobbed, burying his face in Aziraphale’s shirt. “Forgive?”

“Of course.”

Crowley spoke in a dull, flat voice. “They hated me, but even more, they feared me. One night, they gathered together and came for me. They tied me to a pillar and forced me to watch as they burned my plants. I could hear them screaming. Then the priest, the righteous man of God-” Crowley spoke those words in deep contempt- “told me that what they had done and were going to do was a holy mission, and when I was gone, things would be better. Then they set their torches to the pillar, and as I burned I hated them, and my hate grew so strong that I vowed that no matter what it took, I would get my revenge.”

Aziraphale shuddered in rage. “What happened?”

Crowley smiled, showing his fangs. “They cut me down and tossed me into the forest, then set my house ablaze. Bentley had run off, so she was safe. I laid there, to all mortal eyes dead and burned. But they made a mistake in where they put me.”

Crowley told Aziraphale how the forest had rustled, how the trees had shimmered and shivered, then taken the shape of a woman with forests for eyes and lakes for hair. She had lifted him up in her arms, smiling at him with teeth made of rocks, before speaking in a voice that echoed like thunder. “Child of Earth, thou shalt get thy revenge. Become the Guardian, Thy humanity shall be purged, and thou shalt have Dominion over the plants. The villagers shalt face thy wrath.”

Crowley had screamed in agony as the transformation took place. His blood had gone, replaced by the sap from an apple tree. He grew fangs, and his hair became a living thing unto itself. The burns had vanished, and his skin was flawless once more, and besides that it was tough as tree bark and impervious to flame.

“Woke up in clearing, and was Guardian.”

Aziraphale gulped. “What did you do to the villagers?”

Crowley snarled. “Wanted to kill them, make them hurt like I did. But...when I was...human, I only ever used my ability for good purposes, and...when She changed me, She kept that part.”

“She?”

“Gaia, the Forest, God, whatever.”

Aziraphale nodded. “How...how long have you been the Guardian?’

Crowley chuckled without mirth. “They burned my mortal body on the fifth of September, in the year of our Lord 1713. I was thirty three.”

Aziraphale felt a chilling realization. “And...where was your house?” Crowley blinked back tears. “It was here, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. That’s why..can’t go in. If I...do, the memory of my death comes back. In...forest, can pretend...it only dream.”

“Oh, my love...” Aziraphale pulled him into a tight embrace. Crowley went willingly, wrapping his arms around his love.

“I hated them for the longest time. Humans. I had been one, so I knew how cruel they could be. I couldn’t kill them, but I got my revenge.” Crowley smiled. “Oh, did I get my revenge.”

_It had started in one of the granaries. The seeds had somehow blossomed, rendering them useless. Then another, affected in the same way. Crops that had been planted were found withered and blackened, the fruit useless and the wheat blighted. Wild vines with wicked thorns began to appear in the village, wrapped around the buildings and covering the fountain. Nothing could kill them, not blade, nor ax, nor fire. The grocer was pierced by one of the vines and his hand swelled to monstrous size. He was laid low with a fever for three weeks, and was never the same after._

_The priest was wrapped in a vine that pierced and pricked him, leaving him a babbling wreck. He ran into the church, and the vines burst through the stained glass and crushed the crucifix in their grip._

_The priest had screamed, but not at that. No, he had screamed at the unholy demon that was standing on the vines as though they were a floor, a demon with fire red hair that whipped about in a frenzy, golden eyes that blazed with rage, and a smile that showed teeth grown into fangs. The demon had looked at the priest, then with a wave of his hand sent the vines to wrap around his legs. The priest was lifted into the air to come face to face with the devil._

“ _This is what you hath wrought, man of God. Are you righteous in your belief now?!” The demon had asked, wild laughter in his eyes. “Hear me, man. From this time forth, I shall hate you and all humans. If one comes into my forest, I will kill them. If any try to live where once I dwelt, I will use all my power to chase them off. So run and tell the villagers of the consequences of their actions.”_

_The demon dropped him, then turned and walked out of the church, his vines following._

“I hated them for the longest time. Years and years. Humans would come into my forest, and I’d set traps for them. I killed quite a few. But even hate...it fades as time goes on. It...becomes too much. I had been a healer as a mortal, and I couldn’t deny that part of me. So instead I just...hid myself. Kept the forest as safe as I could.”

Aziraphale stroked his back as he thought. His house, according to the realtor, had been built sometime in the late 1800s by a man named Joseph Grady. Grady had had a wife, and the union had produced no children. In 1903, the Gradys had fled the house in the dead of night, swearing that there was an evil spirit residing in the forest. (“Superstitious peasants,” the realtor had scoffed. “The house was supposedly built on the site where they burned a man for witchcraft.”)

“Crowley? What was your name?”

Crowley gulped. “Anthony. My name was Anthony.”

“Anthony. Such a beautiful name.” Aziraphale stroked Crowley’s face before pressing his lips to the forest being’s. Crowley sighed and kissed back. “I love you, Pear.”

“I love you, my Guardian, my Forest Spirit.” Aziraphale said against the slide of their lips. Crowley slid somehow closer, carding his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair and calling up marigolds to wind in the white locks. Aziraphale looked up and smiled. “Thank you, my love.”

“Come back to cave?” Crowley asked. He needed his Pear, needed to feel his skin and taste him. Aziraphale pressed his hand to his cheek and nodded.

His forest knew what he wanted, and so the path to his cave was very swift. Once inside, Crowley and Aziraphale fell onto the bed of flowers, kissing and caressing each other. Crowley wiggled out of his deerskin tunic, and Aziraphale shucked off his shirt and trousers before pinning the redhead to the floor and kissing him breathless. “Crowley? Could you do me a favor and conjure up some vines?” Puzzled but excited, Crowley obeyed. Aziraphale took them and tugged. “Perfect. Now. I want you to reach up and grab onto the roots behind you.” Crowley did, and Aziraphale tied his hands. Crowley gulped. “I want to try something with you. If anything...hurts or scares you, I want you to say...Apple. Understand?”

“Yes. What Pear do?”

Aziraphale smirked. “You’ll see.” He kissed Crowley’s lips, then moved down to suck at his throat. Crowley whined and instinctively reached for him, only to be stopped. He snarled. Aziraphale looked up at him. “Oh, and no using your powers to try and get out. It ruins the fun.”

Crowley pouted mightily and was about to protest when Pear sucked on his right nipple. The protest died in his mouth and he howled in ecstasy. Pear gave him his Smile that made Crowley’s insides go fluttery, and repeated the action on his left nipple. Crowley writhed in his bonds, panting.

Aziraphale slid down his love’s perfect body, sucking, biting, kissing, and licking every bit of the smooth flesh. Above him, Crowley was babbling his name over and over, interlaced with sighs, moans, and even yips of pleasure.

They had been lovers now for nearly a month, and Aziraphale knew every single inch of the Guardian’s form, knew where to touch and kiss and bite and lick to elicit the most pleasure. Crowley knew him just as deeply, and the Guardian took great pride in taking Aziraphale apart.

Crowley howled like a wolf when Aziraphale took his cock into his mouth, sucking hard. Aziraphale took his time, savoring the apple-sap taste of his love. When Crowley came, Aziraphale vaguely noted that the vines he was tied with were suddenly covered in roses. He swallowed his love’s spend, then sat up on his haunches. “Berry?”

Crowley, panting from the force of his orgasm, snapped his fingers. A bluish-purple berry the size of a small orange appeared on his chest. Aziraphale picked it up and removed one of the tiny pearls that made up the berry, smearing it on his fingers. The berry juice made for excellent lube. He coated his fingers, then slid them inside Crowley. The guardian growled in desire. Aziraphale worked him open, relishing in the cries of lust.

“Please Pear please Crowley need you need you inside need you please Pear please please...Aziraphale, **please...** ” 

Aziraphale couldn’t stand any more. He oiled his cock up, then with a cry of relief slammed into Crowley as hard as he could. Crowley screeched, marigolds and carnations fell from the ceiling, and outside the cave leaves burst open. 

Aziraphale fucked Crowley hard. Crowley wrapped his legs around his waist and held on. He wanted to touch Pear, wanted to hold him close, wanted to… “Apple.”

Aziraphale stopped. “Am I hurting you?”

“No. Crowley want touch. Please.”

Aziraphale smiled and kissed him. “Oh, my darling. Free yourself.” Crowley snapped his fingers and the vines melted away. With a happy purr, Crowley wrapped his arms around the human he loved. 

“Pear keep going?”

Aziraphale smirked. “As you wish.”

He brought Crowley to orgasm five times, then Crowley happily returned the favor and gave Aziraphale six. Now they lay on the grass outside the cave, gazing up at the sky. “What did you do to them? The people that lived in the house before me?”

Crowley sighed and munched on a pear before passing it over to Aziraphale. “Scared them. I hated that someone was living where I had...died. I felt it was...was...”

“Sacrilegious?”

Crowley nodded. “Never hurt them. Just scared until they left. Bad ones I show myself to, in...well, Guardian form.”

“Guardian form?” 

Crowley gulped. “Is...only when I am very mad, it manifest.” He grinned suddenly. “But one time humans that live in Crowley house have small human and Crowley make friend. Small human female named Hareet. Hareet like plants.”

“Could her name have been Harriet?” 

“Maybe. But small human’s parents not believe her. Say I am...im-ag-nary. Tell her I not real.”

“What did you do?”

Crowley sighed. “Showed myself. Parents get scared, and next day no one there.  Then next people move in and try to hurt forest. I get Mad mad, and chase them off with vines. Then house empty for long long time. Then Pear come.”

“And I am so glad I did.”

Crowley rolled over so he was lying atop his Pear. “Crowley scared when Pear tell about dreams, ‘cause Crowley not want to remember being human. But...I think...by finally facing my...past, I can...move on.” He buried his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Thank you, Aziraphale. Thank you for...for loving me.”

Aziraphale clung to him. “My love, you are more than welcome.”


	7. The Root of All Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel schemes while Crowley and Aziraphale enjoy a day at the lake.

Chapter Seven: The Root Of All Evil

**Somewhere in London**

Gabriel stirred his salad listlessly, his mind on other things. His ‘business associate’ was taking a blasted long time coming up with a plan to remove his brother from his forest home and toss him back in the hospital, where doctors(paid handsomely by Gabriel, of course) would keep his under sedation and locked up nice and tight. 

Gabriel prided himself in not getting upset. Getting upset was for poor people, and if Gabriel’s scheme went right, he would not be poor. He would, in point of fact, be rich beyond his wildest dreams. Like Aziraphale was. Gabriel angrily speared a piece of kale and chewed. 

Really, this whole fiasco was their Uncle Terry’s fault. Gabriel had never liked the man, and had taken every opportunity he had to ridicule everything about him, from his choice in clothing, to his style of speaking, even dismissing his writing as ‘stupid.’ Aziraphale, on the other hand, doted on him, even devoting much of his time to him in latter years as Uncle Terry wasted away from Alzheimers. He hadn’t even recognized Aziraphale in the end, and Gabriel had thought that to be the end of it.

Imagine his fury and shock when it came about that not only had Uncle Terry been profoundly well off, but that he had written a Will while still of sound mind, leaving everything to his favorite nephew. Aziraphale went from being poorer than a church mouse to the recipient of over ten million pounds. Something in Gabriel snapped when he heard that. Greed clawed at his heart, and he had vowed to do whatever it took to get that money. 

A discreet discussion with Shadwell, Uncle Terry’s very eccentric lawyer, was less than helpful, but eventually Gabriel had pulled out that if Aziraphale was dead or could be legally proven to be of unsound mind, the money would go to the closest living relative, in other words, him. Gabriel  had thanked him, the wheels of greed and malice already turning in his head. 

The ‘car accident’ had been one of many attempts. It seemed as though his brother was born under a lucky sign. Gabriel had been so sure this one would work. He had paid the lorry driver a handsome amount to do as told, and promised that his name would never come up should the police mount an inquiry. It would be passed off as a tragic accident. 

But Aziraphale, against all odds, had survived. Again. But then...he had started to talk about whispers he could hear, and claimed they were the thoughts of people. Gabriel jumped at the chance and had him put in a private hospital, paid off the doctors to keep him heavily medicated, and began planning what he was going to do when the judge declared Aziraphale mentally unfit. 

Gabriel moodily stabbed another piece of kale before taking a sip of vitamin water. His brother had,  **somehow** finagled it so that not only had the doctors pronounced him cured, but the judge threw out the case and told Gabriel to never bother him with petty arguments again. Aziraphale had returned to his shop and Gabriel had returned home and stewed in his resentment and hatred. 

Then a month ago, Aziraphale had left his shop and flat vacant to move to what was essentially a cabin in the middle of a forest. It had taken Gabriel nearly two weeks to track him, and Aziraphale’s refusal to move back to Soho so Gabriel could ‘keep an eye on him’ was shocking. 

Gabriel paid for his meal and left the restaurant, hands in his pockets. One way or another, his brother would be gone and that money would be his. 

“Pear? Why Gabriel not like you?” Crowley asked. They were floating on a makeshift raft in the lake. Crowley had called up a long stick, and was using it to ‘steer’. Aziraphale was stretched out on the warm wood of the raft, his eyes closed. 

“You mean physically or…?”

“Why he mean to you?”

Aziraphale sighed. “Money, my love. Mostly.”

“Why? Pear have money?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Pear have lots of money. I had an uncle, Terry. He made his living writing wonderfully funny books. He was also...what’s the phrase..a bit doolally. Eccentric. Gabriel was always cruel to him whenever we would go for a visit. But he and I got on like a house on fire.” Aziraphale sat up and dangled his toes in the water. “Turned out that he was rather wealthy, and he left it all to me. Gabriel was nearly apoplectic when he found out. He uh...he tried to kill me.”

“WHAT?!” Crowley’s shout of fury made poison oak erupt on the raft. Before it could affect Aziraphale, he snapped his fingers and it vanished. “Sorry.”

“That’s alright, love. It took me a while to figure it out. See, most of the things that happened to me-a heavy shelf falling on my head, being electrocuted in my flat by faulty wiring, even the time I fell off a balcony because the railing had gone rotten-could easily be dismissed as accidents. But what made me realize what was going on was The Accident, the one that gave me this...ability. I heard Gabriel’s...thoughts.”

“What was he thinking?” Crowley asked, coming to sit next to Aziraphale and plucking a grape from the vine he called up. Aziraphale took a grape.

“Goddamnit, that was supposed to be the one that worked!” Aziraphale said in a light tone. Crowley could see the hurt in his eyes, and he pulled Pear into his arms. “I...knew he hated me for getting the money, but I never, not in a million years, thought he would resort to murder. But, after that he didn’t try again. He just had me locked up and medicated so heavily I couldn’t think.”

Crowley stared across the lake. “Back when I was human,  I made potions and salves for healing. I would ride into the village, under heavy guise, and sell them at a market stall in the village square. The priest even bought something from me, a salve for a rash he had. When the villagers found out I had been the one selling the wares, they accused me of, well, creating a demand, let’s say.”

Aziraphale hesitated. “You know, the people that live there now...they’re rather nice.” Crowley growled. Aziraphale had gone into the village a week ago, in desperate need of some bread and drinks besides water. He had, of course, remembered his plugs. “The grocer’s a very nice young lady. She’s going to school for agriculture.” 

Crowley snarled. “Village is bad. People in village are bad.”

“That was over 300 years ago! Most of the villagers think you’re a myth, a story passed down to keep the children from wandering in the forest and getting lost. Hell, the priest isn’t even from here! He’s from Dover! My love, everyone who hurt you has been dust long since. You need to let this go.”

Crowley snarled and dove off the raft. Sighing, Aziraphale sat cross legged. “You know I’m right.” He addressed the water. Angry bubbles came to the surface. “Pout all you like. But this resentment is only hurting you in the long run.”

A nose and two gold eyes peeked above the surface before sinking back down. “What are you scared of?” Aziraphale asked softly. This time Crowley’s head surfaced.

“Humans all same. See strange thing, get scared. Hurt it. Or lock it, like doctors did to Pear. Crowley not want that.” He slid under water again. 

Aziraphale blinked. He hadn’t thought of that. What would happen if Crowley was...discovered? At the best, he would be poked and prodded. At worst, he could be dissected. “You have a point. Now please come back up here. You know it wigs me out when you stay underwater for so long.”

Crowley slid back onto the raft, a wiggling fish in one hand. He bashfully held it out to Aziraphale. “Forgive?”

“You’re incorrigible, but yes. And put that fish back.”

Crowley grinned and brought the fish to his mouth. “No, Crowley, don’t you...” Aziraphale gagged as Crowley bit down, chewing the fish with relish. “Oh, that is revolting.”

“Taste good. Pear like fish. Is like...what Pear call sushi.”

Aziraphale made a face. “That is nothing like sushi. Sushi doesn’t have...guts.” Crowley cocked his head, then reached in and pulled out the entrails. Aziraphale went green. Crowley tossed them into the lake and held the fish out. “No, thank you. I’ve lost my appetite.” 

“Okay. Crowley eat. Then get ‘nother fish for Pear to cook.” Aziraphale nodded and tried not to watch as Crowley devoured the fish, the bones crunching in between his sharp teeth. “Crowley go get more fish. We have pic-nic on shore.” He dove gracefully off the raft, and Aziraphale grabbed the pole and began heading for shore.

Once he was far enough up the beach, he dug a pit, then went to the forest line and gathered sticks and brush. He filled the pit, then took two Y shaped branches he had found, buried them upright in the sand, and waited for Crowley. 

The guardian came out of the water, a brace of fish in each hand. He waved his right hand and called up a patch of grass to place the fish on. Aziraphale rummaged through his stick pile and found one long enough to go across the brackets. “Make that sharp, will you darling?” Crowley snapped his fingers, and the stick became sharp at both ends. “Now for the fire.”

“Pear fire take too long.” Crowley waved his hand, and the wood burst into flame. Aziraphale grinned. Being the lover of an extremely powerful nature being definitely had some perks. He threaded three fish through the stick and set it on the brackets. “Pear want drink?”

“I’d love one.”

Crowley shot into the trees. Moments later, he was back with two gourds, and Aziraphale nearly swooned at the aroma of honey wine. “Also brought herbs for fish. Got dill, and coriander. Make taste good.” 

Aziraphale sprinkled the herbs on the fish, turning it. “What kind of fish is this, anyway?”

“Trout. Good for eating.”

Aziraphale flaked off a piece of fish with a small sharp stick. “Very good for eating.” He took a bite. “Perfect. Don’t suppose you have anything resembling a plate?” 

Crowley grinned and waved his hand. Two large leaves appeared. “That work?” Aziraphale nodded. He scooped out some flesh and slid it into his mouth. “Good?”

“Delicious. I’d tell you to watch out for bones, but I don’t think that’s a problem with you.” Sure enough, Crowley was happily munching on the fish’s head. Aziraphale sighed in resignation and scooped out more fish. He picked up one of the gourds and opened it, taking a small sip. He knew from bitter experience that Crowley’s honey wine packed an incredibly potent punch. 

Crowley took a gulp from his gourd, watching Pear with amused eyes. His wine made Pear talk funny sometimes. Once, when they had been sitting on a rock in his forest passing a gourd back and forth, Pear had started talking about something called ‘daw-fins.’ He had tried to explain that these ‘daw-fins’ looked like fish, but weren’t, and they lived in a big lake called the o-sheen. 

“Big...big brains. Dolphins. Very...big. Whales. Lossa brains. Lossa...” Pear had gone to sleep then, and Crowley had caught him in one of his vines before he fell off the rock. 

The next day Pear had smelled like a sick plant. He had, he explained, what was called a ‘hang-over.’ Crowley had very vague memories of his human self having one of those, and had conjured up  willow leaves and ginger root, pressing them onto his Pear. 

“Pear not talk about daw-fins this time?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale snorted. 

“My love, the hangover I got from this stuff was the worst I’ve ever had in my life, and I have no wish to repeat the experience.” Aziraphale said in a dry, sardonic tone before taking a sip of mead. “Didn’t you get drunk as a human?”

“Oh, yeah, lot’s of times. Made me forget how much everyone hated me. Went on a three day binge once. Woke up in my garden with my roses poking me and asking if I was okay.”

Aziraphale tossed the fish bones away and picked up another. “I’ve always wondered. When you were mortal, did you actually...understand the plants?” Crowley nodded. “How did they communicate?” Crowley tapped his head. “You read their minds?”

“Not...exactly. Plants don’t...think, not in the way humans do. It was more like...I felt what they wanted. And somehow, they...knew what I wanted.” Crowley looked down at his hands. “At first, Mum and Dad were thrilled. I could keep anything alive, which is a big help when you’re a day’s ride away from the nearest village and surrounded by forest.”

“What happened?” 

“My powers got stronger. I...when I was seven, I made a tree grow where there was no seed planted. I didn’t realize what I had done until I saw my father’s face. He was white as a ghost. The...the next day, the priest came. That was my first exorcism.”

“How many…?”

Crowley shivered. “Twelve exorcisms, fifteen ‘baptisms’, and when those didn’t work, my father..tried beating it out of me. I fled when I was sixteen. I knew about the clearing, because I’d been there before. I hid there for nearly six years. I had gotten so strong by then that I was able to make flowering plants bear fruit.  But I was getting homesick. I came back...and found they had died. Fever. And, well...you know the rest.”

Aziraphale made a ‘come here’ gesture. Crowley scooted over and climbed into his lap. “Did you always look like this?” 

“You mean my hair and eyes?” Aziraphale nodded. “Yeah, and they were another reason why the villagers feared me. I had the Devil’s hair and eyes like a snake’s.’

“Coloboma.” Crowley looked utterly lost. “It’s a condition where the pupil of the eye is warped. It’s rare, but it happens. As for the color, I think it’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.”

“Pear’s eyes are the sky.” Crowley said, tracing Aziraphale’s cheek with a finger. “Crowley could spend all day lost in them.” Aziraphale wrapped his hand around the back of Crowley’s head and pulled him into a deep kiss. Crowley sighed happily and kissed back, slowly pushing Aziraphale down onto the grass. “Pear want Crowley?” He asked, sucking a kiss into the soft skin of Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale made a sound that would make a seasoned porn star blush. 

“Pear always wan….oh god do that again...” (Crowley had done something with his teeth to Aziraphale’s collar bone that made the blond see stars) “Pear always want Crowley.” He yelped as Crowley repeated the action. “Ohmigod...” Aziraphale slurred, his brain already turning to pleasure-mush. “Crwly...” 

Crowley smirked  and scraped Aziraphale’s left nipple with his fangs. His Pear made a cat sound and sighed out his name. Pear tasted so good, and Crowley would never have enough of him. A brilliant, wicked thought came to him. 

Aziraphale moaned in disappointment when Crowley sat up, but the look on his lover’s face made him gulp. “C..Crowley?”

Crowley waved his hands, and roses appeared in them, roses without thorns. Crowley lifted his hands to his face and whispered something in a soft, rustling voice. The roses rustled, and Crowley dropped them onto Aziraphale. “Crowley, what…?”

Aziraphale’s breath was knocked from him as the roses began to caress every bit of skin, their petals unbelievably soft. Crowley watched, smiling. “I can make them do anything I want, remember?” Aziraphale could only nod, tears of pleasure in his eyes as Crowley’s roses kept stroking every bit of him, from his eyelids to his lips to his shoulders, between his thighs, and both legs. He was harder than he could ever remember being. Crowley directed the largest rose to his Aziraphale’s aching cock. 

The second  the silken petals touched his hard flesh, Aziraphale howled and came, his body shaking. Crowley watched, grinning. “Good, Pear?”

Aziraphale’s brain was mush. He couldn’t do anything but lie there as a tsunami of pleasure crashed into him, leaving him limp as a dishrag. Crowley plucked the rose and gently pressed it to Aziraphale’s cock, stroking it. “Do you want me to show you just how good I am?” 

“Uh huh.” Aziraphale slurred. Really, Crowley could bugger him with a vine and Aziraphale would fucking love it. “Do...nythig you want...”

Crowley smiled wickedly and kissed him, stroking the sweat damp hair. “Your turn next, though. Take Crowley apart.”

Aziraphale smiled up at him. “Of course, my love.”

Aziraphale had many reasons for loving his home. It was peaceful, the view was amazing, and best of all there was no one to hear his screams of pleasure as his cryptid lover fucked him into sweet oblivion several times over. 

But back in London, Gabriel’s plan was finally beginning to take shape. He only needed a few more weeks, and then Aziraphale would be taken care of, the money would be his, and he would be sitting on a beach in a country with no extradition laws. 

Everything was coming up Gabriel. 


	8. In A Flowery Bower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, smut, and music.

Chapter Eight: In A Flowery Bower

Aziraphale smiled to himself as he examined the items in his bag. He had spent most of the morning putting it together, and he hoped Crowley appreciated his hard work. He slung the bag over one shoulder and set out for the tree line.

As expected, Crowley’s face appeared in front of him, upside down and grinning with mischief. “What Pear have in sack thing?” Crowley asked, stretching out a hand. Aziraphale lifted it out of his reach, and Crowley pouted. “Pearrr...”

“I’ll show you when we get to your clearing, and not a moment sooner.” Aziraphale said primly, walking down the path. Crowley frowned and shot into the trees, racing for his home as quickly as he could. Aziraphale took his time, strolling at a leisurely pace. By the time he got to the clearing. Crowley was so antsy he had made and shredded three flowering vines and was now in the process of turning a marigold he had called up purple. “Interesting color choice.” Aziraphale remarked as he appeared in the clearing. Crowley tossed it aside and ran over, leaping into his arms.

“Pear take ‘long time. Crowley not like.” The guardian mumbled into Aziraphale’s shirt. Aziraphale patted his back with his free hand. Crowley nuzzled him, purring, then slid off. “What in sack?”

Aziraphale grinned and handed it over. “Open it.” Crowley tore off the top and peered in, then looked up, extremely confused.

“Is food?” He poked at one of the things. “Too hard. What is?”

Aziraphale smiled and pulled out the first item. “It’s a record player. The kind that runs on batteries. And these...” he pulled out several round things “are my favorite records.”

Crowley picked one up and sniffed it. “Not food?” Aziraphale shook his head. “What for?”

“Music, my darling.”

“What music?”

Aziraphale sighed. “Surely you remember music.”

Crowley thought hard. He sort of knew what Pear was talking about. “In village, in...church. Crowley sneak in once in disguise and hear music praising...” he pointed upward. “Was pretty.”

Aziraphale nodded as he set up his player and selected a record. “Yes, that was a form of music.”

Crowley frowned. “But that come from people, not hard round thing.” He picked up another record. Aziraphale gently reached out and took it from him, setting it on top of the pile. Crowley watched, transfixed, as Pear put the hard round thing inside the square hard thing, put the long thing on top, and pressed something.

The opening strands of Beethoven’s Fifth filled the clearing. Crowley yelped in shock and jumped into the nearest tree, snarling at the strange thing. Aziraphale sighed. “Come down here, you big baby. It’s not going to hurt you.” Crowley crawled down head first, skittering over on all fours and sniffing suspiciously at the record. He sat on his haunches and watched the record spin, his head darting. “Where sound come from?”

Aziraphale pointed to the record. “From that.” Crowley frowned and reached out. Aziraphale lightly smacked his wrist. “Don’t touch, you’ll make it skip.” Crowley pouted, but turned back to the record, eyes wide.

“How?”

Aziraphale faltered. “Er...well...I...don’t really know how it works, to be honest. But do you like it?”

Crowley nodded. “Good...music.” Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief. “Good music.” Crowley scooted over to Aziraphale and climbed into his lap, resting his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Pear happy?”

“Pear always happy with you, my love.”

Crowley sighed and nuzzled him. “Pear bring reading?” Laughing, Aziraphale dug into his sack and pulled out the much read and much loved book of fairy tales. Crowley took it and opened it to the Frog Prince, his favorite story. “Pear teach Crowley reading?”

Aziraphale blinked, then beamed and kissed him. “Oh, my love, of course. Can you...”

Crowley smiled. “Crowley speak human speech. Sound different, though. Pear eat fruit, so understand Crowley when Crowley speak Guardian.” The Guardian took a breath and spoke in a soft voice much different from his normal deep one.

“Hello, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale blinked, then kissed him again. “Hello, Crowley. So, let’s get this reading lesson started.” Crowley grinned and snuggled against Aziraphale. “Once upon a time...”

Crowley repeated the words, his fingers following as Aziraphale read. The telepath read at a comfortable pace, stopping and helping Crowley sound out the words that he didn’t understand. When they read the part about Faithful Henry and the three iron bands, Crowley pulled Aziraphale close. “I’d do that. If I thought I’d lost you. Lock away my heart.”

“My love, you won’t lose me. I promise.” Aziraphale kissed the top of his head. “Your flowers are lovely, have I mentioned that yet?” He inhaled the scent of the roses, marigolds, carnations and irises that wove themselves into his love’s fire tresses. Crowley’s hair came up and wrapped itself around Aziraphale, rubbing his face in a loving caress. Aziraphale giggled and sneezed. “Oh, my dear.”

Crowley reached up and pulled flowers out, then with a twist of his wrists turned them into a crown. He turned and placed it on Aziraphale’s head with a giggle. “Now you King of Forest. Rule with Guardian.” Aziraphale blushed down to his toes, and Crowley suddenly felt very warm. He leaned in, cupped Aziraphale’s face in his hands, and claimed his lips in a passionate kiss. Aziraphale moaned and kissed back, pulling Crowley so close that there was not an inch of space between them. Crowley grabbed his tunic with one hand and pulled it off, and Aziraphale slid his hands down his perfect back to grab onto his perfect ass, squeezing. Crowley purred in satisfaction and grabbed onto Aziraphale’s shirt. “Pear like this shirt?”

Aziraphale knew what was coming, and his cock sprang to attention. “N..not particularly, no.”

“Good.” Crowley yanked it, and it flew into pieces. Aziraphale hissed, and Crowley grinned. His Pear loved it when Crowley showed off his strength. Crowley placed his hands under Pear’s firm round ass and lifted. Pear yelped in delight and wrapped his legs around Crowley’s waist. Crowley slammed him up against the nearest tree, pinned him down with one hand, and tore off his trousers and boxers with the other. Aziraphale yowled in pleasure.

Crowley told the tree to hold Pear up, and a thick branch appeared under his ass, supporting him. Crowley kissed him, stroking every bit of his Pear’s soft skin, loving the sounds he was making. He called up his vines, and they slid up Pear’s legs, gently forcing them apart. Crowley smirked to himself at the loud cry.

“Crowley...please...” Aziraphale was on the brink. Crowley was moving against him, driving him mad with need. The vines around his legs were stroking his inner thighs, furthering the torment. “Please my love my Guardian please..” He cried out in rapture as he felt Crowley’s thick tip poking against his entrance. “Pleasssee...”

Crowley called up the Berry and oiled himself up, then slid his fingers deep inside his Pear, curling them. Pear howled, thrashing, and Crowley braced himself against the trunk with one hand and slammed home. Aziraphale screeched in pleasure. Crowley pounded into him, letting his hair stroke and caress the parts his hands couldn’t reach. “OhgodCrowleyyesyesyesfuckmeharderfuck me harder I love you so much, more than I’ve ever loved anyone, you are my life my breath my soul my blood my stars moon sun my love I love you I love you I love you...” Aziraphale chanted. Crowley kissed every inch of him.

“I love you, my Pear my Aziraphale my love my love my sweet human my only my soul my life mine...”

Aziraphale came first, Crowley’s name pouring from his mouth in a shriek. Crowley followed his lover over the precipice. Panting with exertion, he waved a hand and the vines vanished. Aziraphale fell forward, and Crowley easily caught him. Aziraphale smiled up at him. “My love.”

“Love Pear.” Crowley cocked his head. “Snake hissing.”

“Sn...oh! The record’s done!” Aziraphale walked over on somewhat unsteady legs to the record player and lifted the needle. He sorted through the other records and made his selection. “I think you’ll like this one. It’s called Rhapsody in Blue. It’s a bit...newer than the last one I played.”

Crowley came over. “Different music.”

Aziraphale nodded. “My love, humans have made rapid progress in many things in the last three hundred years. Surely you must have seen some of them in the people that lived in the house.”

Crowley thought. “The Before humans, the ones that live in house until Pear come, they have box with people in it. Crowley look in window and see. They sit on soft rocks and watch people in box.”

“Yes, they had a television.” Aziraphale had gotten rid of it. Yes, it was nice, but he didn’t watch television and so saw no reason to keep it. He had told the movers to do what they wanted with it. “I’ve never been a fan, myself. I much prefer a good book and some music to pass the night.” Crowley embraced him from behind, kissing his neck. “What’s on your mind, my guardian?”

“Crowley want Pear inside. Want ride Pear.” Crowley whispered against his skin, while at the same time stroking Aziraphale’s cock back into wakefulness. Aziraphale groaned.

“Yes...” Crowley hooted happily and came around to Aziraphale’s front. Aziraphale spread his legs out, and Crowley lifted himself up and moved so his ass was aligned with Aziraphale’s cock. “Berry?”

Crowley shook his head. “Still...got enough.” Aziraphale nodded, and Crowley slammed himself down. Aziraphale choked on air as his cock was engulfed in his lover’s tight heat. “Pear...” Crowley’s voice was dark with lust. He held Aziraphale in his strong grip, eyes blown wide with desire. “Tell Crowley how to go.”

Aziraphale dug his hands into the slim hips. “Ride me as hard as you fucking can, my love.” Crowley moaned and began moving, his entire body shaking and undulating in ways that would mean broken hips had he been human. He would lift himself up and then slam back down, taking Aziraphale’s cock deeper with each movement.

Aziraphale, for his part, could do nothing but hold on for dear life and fuck up into Crowley as hard and as fast as he could. He was vaguely aware that he was screaming, and that Crowley was doing things that would make the Kama Sutra look like a child’s book. Aziraphale thought he had reached the pinnacle of pleasure...and then he felt something poking at his ass. Oh dear god. Crowley was going to bugger him with a vine. He somehow managed to turn his head enough so he could see the long, thick vine. Aziraphale whimpered as he felt the vine stroke his cleft. “C..Crowley...”

“Not worry, Pear.” Crowley said, somehow managing to speak despite the fact he was having his brains fucked out of his head by his lover. “Vine not hurt. Feel good...”

“FUCK!” Aziraphale screamed out as the vine, thick and long, slid into him. “JESUS FUCKING...” Words ran away, and all Aziraphale could do was make strangled noises as Crowley took him to a place of pleasure that he had never felt before. He was going to die, he was going to come apart at the seams, burst into flame and become one with the cosmos. Aziraphale was floating, he was flying, and he pounded up into Crowley’s perfection, babbling nonsense, loving him more and more with each thrust, each movement of their bodies, and the pleasure was building, it was becoming more intense, and Aziraphale was going to fly apart, he…

Flowers erupted in the clearing as both Crowley and Aziraphale reached their climaxes at the same time, both of them screaming in pleasure. Aziraphale fell back against a pile of marigolds, panting, then suddenly burst into giggles. “My flower crown didn’t fall!” Sure enough, it was still perched in his white blond curls. Crowley smirked.

“Course not. Crowley tell it to stay there.”

Aziraphale smiled up at him. “My darling. I think we need a swim in the lake.” Crowley laughed in agreement.

“Bring music thing?”

“Of course.”

When they arrived at the lake, Aziraphale gently took off his flower crown and set it aside before wading into the water. Crowley followed, diving under and emerging right in front of Aziraphale with a wicked grin. “Hi Pear.”

“Hello my love.” Crowley kissed him, then dove underwater and shot back up behind him.

“Pear can’t catch Crowley!” He sing songed, splashing Aziraphale. Aziraphale laughed, sputtering, and spun around, only to find emptiness. Crowley popped up a few feet away. “Pear can’t catch me, Pear can’t catch me!”

Aziraphale swam in a leisurely circle, eyes on the still lake water. Aha! There. He swam out towards the middle of the lake, eyes fixed on the bubbles, and stopped, keeping as still as he could.

Crowley popped up again, grinning. “Pear can’t...Pear?”

Aziraphale tapped his shoulder, and Crowley jumped. “I don’t have to catch you, my love. I just have to outsmart you.” Pear said, smiling. Crowley frowned and splashed him. Pear gaped, and Crowley giggled and splashed him again. “Oh, it is **on.** ” Pear grabbed Crowley’s shoulders and dunked him underwater. Crowley came up and sent a wave of water at Pear. Pear blinked, then with a growl shoved water at Crowley, laughing. 

They splashed and dunked each other for hours, chasing each other around the lake in their efforts. Aziraphale was nearly breathless with laughter, and Crowley couldn’t stop giggling. “I yield! Crowley, I yield!” Crowley flung one more handful of water at Aziraphale before turning and swimming back to shore. He laid out on the sand, his hair spread out. Aziraphale swam up and laid next to him, carding his fingers through the tresses. “Was it always this long?”

“Yeah. Used to braid it. Haven’t for a while.”

Aziraphale stroked the tresses, and they petted him. “I could. If...you want me to.” One of the tresses lifted itself up and made a nodding gesture. “Oh, thank you.” Crowley  sat up and Aziraphale moved so he was behind him. “Now, I’ve never braided living hair before, not that human hair is dead, but it normally doesn’t...move as much as your hair does.” 

Crowley laughed. “Hair is alive, but will keep still for Pear.” Sure enough, the strands stilled their ever present stirring. Aziraphale hefted it in his hands and began braiding. 

“I’m going to do a French braid, because that’s the easiest. If I pull too hard, let me know.” Crowley nodded, eyes closed as Pear’s hands moved in his hair. This was a Nice feeling, and Crowley found himself wondering why he hadn’t asked Pear to do this sooner. Pear’s hands were so warm, so soft and gentle. 

“Pear make good healer. Have healer hands.” 

“Oh, thank you. But that would mean being around people, and I’d get overwhelmed.”

Crowley purred. “Can Pear...” he growled in frustration. “Like beaver make...but not same word...”

“Dam?”

Crowley nodded and waved his hands. A rosebush appeared, and he snapped it away. “Not same word, but mean same. Make so can’t hear thoughts.”

“You mean block them?” Crowley beamed. 

“Yes! Block! Can Pear block?”

Aziraphale sighed as he began braiding another strand. “Not fully, no. I have earplugs, and they help to dampen the whisper thoughts, but anything deeper, and I get it all. And the fun part is, it doesn’t go away.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Crowley’s head. “I still don’t know how or why it happened. I’ve done so much research, read veritable libraries on the subject of telepathy, talked to all sorts of wackjobs and mediums and so called psychics and even a few scientists, and nothing. The only thing I can think of is that maybe something in my brain got dislodged, or put back in place. I even checked to see if I had a tumor that was causing it, and nothing.  All my life, I’d read stories of people who could read minds, and of the adventures they had.” Aziraphale chuckled mirthlessly. “I could tell those writers a thing or two. Like the horrible migraines I would get. Or the fact that the only thing that ever stopped the thoughts was drinking until I passed out. Or...the fact that I was going insane.”

“That good, though.”

“Is it?”

Crowley tilted his head. “Yes. Otherwise Pear not come here, and Crowley never fall in love. Crowley glad for that.” 

Aziraphale kissed his forehead. “Pear glad for that too, my love. Now, tell me what you think.” Crowley peered into the still water of the lake. 

“Crowley love!” He giggled, wrapping Aziraphale in his arms and kissing him all over. 

Aziraphale giggled himself, his heart fuller than he could ever remember. 


	9. Rainy Day Activities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale faces rain and changes.

Chapter Nine: Rainy Day Activities

Aziraphale awoke to the sound of rain splashing on the roof of Crowley’s cave. He sat up, wiping the sleep sand from his eyes, and looked out at the mouth. It was coming down in buckets. Aziraphale sighed. He wasn’t worried about getting wet-the cave was probably more watertight than most houses-but when it rained this hard, Crowley’s mood wasn’t the best. Aziraphale didn’t really understand it, and Crowley, in his limited vocabulary, couldn’t explain it. He just got listless and moody whenever it rained, and his moodiness increased with the amount of rain.

“Mggmm...” Crowley muttered and shivered in his sleep before cracking one golden eye open and looking outside. He growled and turned over, covering his face with his hair. “Ugghh...”

Aziraphale smiled to himself and rubbed Crowley’s back. The Guardian purred happily. “Nice..”

“Crowley, why do you dislike rain so much? It helps your forest grow.”

Crowley turned his head so he was looking at Aziraphale. “Crowley help forest grow. Rain get everything wet and make Crowley cold.” He glared at the offending water. “Also make it so Crowley has stay in cave and not go out.”

“Er...aren’t you waterproof?”

“Still feel it. Damp and wet and cold. Not nice feeling. Why, Pear like rain?”

Aziraphale smiled. “Not rain itself, no. It is very wet, and unlike you, my gorgeous cryptid darling, I am not waterproof. But I do like the things I can do when it is raining.” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss between Crowley’s shoulder blades. Crowley sighed and rolled over.

“Like what?”

Aziraphale kissed him. “Well, I always loved settling down in my favorite chair, making a mug of cocoa, and reading as many books as I could. I would sit by the window and watch it come down, knowing I was safe and dry. I’d listen to the radio or my records, and once in a blue moon I’d take up my needles and try to knit something. I would organize my shop, since rain meant very few customers. What about you? Do you remember what you did?”

Crowley sighed. “Organized herbs, read, wished for it to end. Didn’t like it even when human. But can Crowley and Pear do some of those rain day things? Crowley not know cocoa. Is food?”

“In a way, yes. It’s actually made from a plant called the cocoa bean, and it’s...do you know what chocolate is?”

Crowley shook his head. Aziraphale gaped. “Well, I’ll have to introduce you. It so happens that I have a box of very fine chocolates that arrived yesterday, along with a cocoa kit. So, if you want to brave the rain, we could go to my house.” Crowley made a face, and Aziraphale giggled. “Well, alright then. It’ll still be there when the rain stops. However, we could do the reading bit. Would you like me to read to you?”

Crowley rolled over and picked up the fairy tale book. “No. Crowley read to Pear.” He said in an emphatic tone. He sat up, holding the book in his lap, and patted the empty space next to him. “Pear sit here. Crowley read Twelve Princesses Dancing.”

“Twelve Dancing Princesses, darling.” Aziraphale corrected, settling himself next to his lover. Crowley frowned.

“That what Crowley say.” He dramatically cleared his throat. “Once ‘pon a time, there was a soldier….”

Aziraphale listened as Crowley read slowly, stumbling over a few of the harder words but over all doing a very good job. When he was finished, he looked to Aziraphale for approval. “You did brilliant, my love. I’m so proud of you.”

Crowley beamed, and Aziraphale smiled at the sunflower that appeared in between them. Crowley blushed and stroked the petals. “Pear make Crowley smile like sunflower.”

“Crowley make Pear do the same.” Aziraphale said, smiling widely. Crowley laid his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder, letting his hair stroke the blond. “Do you want to keep reading, darling? You have such a lovely voice.”

Crowley flipped through the book. “The Spindle, The Shuttle, and The Needle. Once ‘pon a time...”

When he had finished the second story, Aziraphale noticed that Crowley had a somewhat faraway look in his eyes. “Crowley?”

“I used to sew.”

“Really?”

Crowley nodded. “I couldn’t go to the village because every time I did I ran the risk of being caught out and stoned out, and London was too far away in those day for leisurely trips. So I made an arrangement with a London based fabrics company that once a month they would send a man with a wagon load of fabrics. He’d come, drop his load off, I’d pay him, and the fabrics would be enough for me to make at least four outfits. I wasn’t exactly an outlandish dresser, so I could make it last.”

Aziraphale blinked, still a bit surprised. “I can knit, a little. I make a mean scarf, but the few times I’ve tried anything more complex they turn out rather lumpy. Still, it’s a fun hobby to have. Though for you it was probably more.” Crowley nodded. “And what about your tunics? Do you make those?”

“Yep. Crowley find dead deer, use hide to wear. But not all time. Most time, Crowley wear flowers.”

Aziraphale licked his lips. “And Pear very much appreciate when Crowley wear only flowers. Crowley very sexy.” Crowley blushed, hiding his face in his hand. Aziraphale laughed and kissed him on the cheek with a loud smack. Crowley squawked and blushed deeper, peeking through his fingers. “Being coy, are we?” Aziraphale asked, laughter in his voice. Crowley batted his eyes and smiled. “Silly creature.”

“Your silly creature.” Crowley said in a soft voice, moving so he was straddling Aziraphale’s lap. “Yours, always and f’rever.” He cupped Aziraphale’s face and pulled him into a slow kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Aziraphale answered, his eyes soft. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of saying it, or of hearing it. My sweet Guardian.”

Crowley pressed his forehead to Aziraphale’s. “You know, you don’t need to be able to read Crowley’s mind. I tell you what I am thinking. I am thinking ‘Pear how I love Pear want to keep him forever and ever’. That is what I thinking, what I always thinking. Want to keep Pear forever and for always.”

Aziraphale blinked back happy tears. “Oh, Crowley, I want that too.”

Crowley kissed him. “Have serious question. Crowley know how to make...special flower. Is edible, and...would make it so Pear could stay always. Would make Pear...live long long time. When Crowley made Guardian, knowledge of Flower put in head. I’ve never done it, but...”

Aziraphale gaped. “Crowley, are you telling me you can make a magic flower that would make me immortal?” Crowley nodded. “Would I stay like this or would I age?”

“You stay same. But you also be different.”

“How?”

Crowley thought. “If hurt, heal quicker. Also...maybe not hear voices.”

“You...it’ll cure my telepathy?! I want it NOW.”

Crowley shook his head. “No. You need think first.”

“I am thinking. So, this flower. I’ll be immortal, if I get hurt, I’ll heal fast, I won’t be able to read minds anymore, and I’ll get to spend the rest of my very long life in the arms of the most gorgeous being on this green earth. I’m not seeing any downsides here.”

Crowley sighed. “You’d be cut off from everyone and everything, Aziraphale. My transformation into what I am now didn’t fully remove my need for human interaction. As much as I hated them in those first years, I also felt lost because I wasn’t one of them any longer. A few times, I tried showing myself to travelers passing through, but they always reacted with hate and fear. Humans...they have this sense when someone isn’t really, truly one of them. Can you live with that, my love? With knowing that you will never, ever fully belong anywhere?”

Aziraphale looked down at his lap. “I never belonged any way. My parents disowned me for being gay, my brother is actively plotting to do something nefarious, and the only person that cared about me before you is dead. I’m made fun of for my out of date fashion sense, I can’t be among large crowds of people because I’ll hear their thoughts and get overwhelmed, and the only thing I had going for me before I came here was my shop, which I was barely keeping afloat. So I’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain.”

Crowley looked into his eyes. “Are you absolutely sure?” Aziraphale nodded. Crowley sighed, then scooted away and closed his eyes. Aziraphale gaped as his hair began dancing wildly, twisting and turning like a nest of snakes. Crowley’s upper body was darting back and forth, and he was making very complicated patterns in the air with his hands. His fingers twisted and writhed. The cave seemed to brighten for an instant. Crowley fell over. Aziraphale dashed over to him. “Crowley?”

The Guardian opened his eyes, sat up, and opened his hand. In it was the most beautiful flower Aziraphale had ever seen. It had golden petals and inside was a beautiful red. “Have to eat all of it.” Aziraphale snatched it up and was about to shove it in his mouth when Crowley stopped him once again. “Pear, last chance to say no. It...” Crowley clasped Aziraphale’s hands in his. “Crowley not lie. It’s...going to hurt. A lot.”

“H..how badly?”

Crowley looked down. “Like knives, stabbing into you. Like you’re on fire, but you can’t put it out. Like bones cracking, blood steaming. Like being torn into pieces. If Pear say no, Crowley throw flower out in rain and we keep reading, and Crowley love Pear for long as Pear live.”

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, then at the flower in his hand. “I love you. And I want to be with you forever.” With that, he shoved the flower in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “Well, that was an odd...” he doubled over, whimpering. “Oh. That...hurt.”

Crowley blinked back tears, knowing that in a few moments, Aziraphale would be in agony. “I’m sorry, Pear. It’s only going to get worse.”

Aziraphale felt like he was being stabbed in the gut. Pain exploded through him. “H..how could it get...” he screamed and spasmed, his legs jerking. “OH MY GOD THIS HURTS MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP!”

“I CAN’T!” Crowley sobbed out, his hand over his mouth as tears flowed down his face. Seeing his love in this much agony was torture beyond imaging. Aziraphale fell over onto his back, jerking and twitching as he screamed. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I am so sorry...”

Aziraphale had finally stopped screaming, but his face was pale as milk and his body still jerked and spasmed. “It hurts it hurts so much it hurts...”

Crowley crawled over and pulled the shaking blond into his lap.”I’m so sorry...”

Aziraphale clutched him. “I...thought...you...exaggerating. OH MY GOD IT HURTS!” Aziraphale leaned over and vomited. “I want it to stop. Please make it stop. Please...” Another spasm hit, and he screamed. Crowley screamed along with him. “Make it stop.” Aziraphale whispered brokenly.

“I can’t. Magic too strong.”

“It’s going to kill me...” Aziraphale sobbed out. “D..don’t let it kill me, please don’t...I love you...please...”

“Can’t. But will be here.’

“H..how long will I…?”

Crowley held the shaking man tight. “I don’t know. Could be hours, could be days.”

“Days?! I have to...I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t I...” Another spasm, this one much stronger than the ones before it, and Aziraphale’s scream of agony made the cave walls tremble. Crowley was sobbing so hard he couldn’t breathe, and he clung to his love, trying to offer comfort through the worst of the pain.

Aziraphale had passed out, and now he lay on the cave floor, his face pale as death. Crowley had called up a leaf and gone out and gathered rain water, and was sitting next to him, mopping his face. Aziraphale’s skin was hot as hellfire, and Crowley kept wiping him down with water, trying to keep him cool. He had lost track of time. He knew that the sun had rose and set at least twice, and that it was still raining. Aziraphale still spasmed, crying out in pain from the depths of his coma.

Crowley had never felt so helpless in his life. He could do nothing but watch as the man he loved went through an agony he knew only too well. Crowley would lie next to him, stroking his cheek and begging for him to wake up. He even braved the rain one day and went to Pear’s house. He had gone inside, his heart in his throat, and found the ‘record player’ and ‘records’, wrapping them in a large leaf and carrying them back to the cave.

“Pear want music?” Crowley asked the unresponsive Aziraphale. He picked out the record. “Rhap-so-dy in Blue. Crowley ‘member Pear like this music.” He took it out of the sleeve and placed it on the player, trying to remember how Aziraphale had done it. Carefully, he placed the needle on the record and pressed the button he thought Pear had pressed.

Music filled the cave, and Crowley sighed in relief. Maybe Pear would hear it and wake up.

Aziraphale could swear he heard Gershwin. But that was impossible. His records were at his house. Unless...he cracked one eye open. Nope, still in Crowley’s cave. So where… “Crowley?” Dear god, he sounded like he had swallowed a whole army of frogs.

Crowley, who had been sitting and letting his vines run through his fingers, looked up. “Pear?!” Aziraphale blinked and Crowley was at his side in a flash, kissing him all over and sobbing out apologies. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry...”

Aziraphale was still too weak to move, but he smiled up at his love. “Don’t be. You were worth it. You are worth everything, my love. I feel it, you know. It’s...I can’t explain. It’s like...hearing a song that only I can hear, or...like I dove into deep water but have no fear of what’s there. What’s it like for you?”

Crowley laid next to him. “Different. You’re still human, for all intents and purposes. I look human, but I’m not. My blood is sap, my skin is tree bark, and I have fangs. I also cannot be killed, but if I am taken from the forest, I will get weak. I am bound to it, as much as it is bound to me. You’ve seen me, when one of my trees is dying.”

Aziraphale remembered. It had been shortly after they became lovers. Crowley had come out of the forest, pale and shivering. Aziraphale had been greatly alarmed until Crowley told him that one of his oldest trees was dying. “I Guardian. Feel it when they born, and feel it when die. Tree was old old. Felt no sadness. Told Crowley it okay.”

Aziraphale had held the Guardian as he mourned.

“What happens to the forest if you’re gone?”

“It grow weak. Trees die, plants die. Withering.” Crowley’s face went dark. “One time not long after my..mortal death... people come with torches. Try to burn.”

“What did you do?”

Crowley’s face was a rictus. “Made them regret it. Showed myself in Guardian Form.” He cackled. “One of them went mad, right then. Screamed about demons and ran. The others...I made sure they never bothered me again.” Aziraphale shivered. “I’m not human, Pear. As much as I look it, I left it behind me long ago. I doubt I even have a soul anymore.”

Aziraphale sat up, blinking back a wave of dizziness. “That’s where you’re wrong. You have a soul. It burns so brightly in you, my love. Brighter than the sun.”

“Oh, Aziraphale.” Crowley pulled him into his arms. “My love.”

Aziraphale shivered. He had gone through agony and torture and come out the other side. He was stronger than he realized, he thought. Now there was only one thing on his mind.

“Crowley, where did my records come from?”

Crowley blushed. “Crowley get them when Pear...in deep sleep. Thought might help wake.”

Aziraphale felt a wave of love. “How long was I in the deep sleep?”

“Four sunrises.”

“Ah, then that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

Aziraphale grinned. “I’m bloody starving.”


	10. Testing Limits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale tests his limits and Crowley's patience, and Gabriel's scheme goes into motion.

Chapter Ten: Testing Limits

“Aziraphale, what are you doing?” Crowley asked, trying to look nonchalant and not worried out of his skull. His newly immortal(as of four hours ago) lover gave him a cocky grin and placed his bare feet on the lowest branch of the tree.

“Well, you said I heal from injury, right?” Crowley nodded, wondering where this was leading. “Well, I figured that if I climb a tree, and fall out on purpose, I could see just how quick I heal.” Crowley gaped, not even sure how to begin refuting that logic. Aziraphale hoisted himself onto the branch, and Crowley waved a hand to widen it and make it strong enough to hold his weight. “Oh, thank you.”

Crowley rubbed his face. “You can’t just, I dunno, take my word for it?”

Aziraphale grabbed the branch above him. Crowley groaned and lowered it into his hand. “I want to see for myself, thank you.” Crowley sighed and snapped his fingers, and the branches rearranged themselves into a sort of ladder. Aziraphale grinned at him and climbed up. When he reached the top, he turned and waved at the red speck below. “Bombs away!” He shut his eyes and fell backwards out of the tree.

Crowley squawked in alarm and called forth his vines, whipping them around Aziraphale and grabbing him before he could hit the ground. The former bookseller looked at him, contrite. “What’s this for?”

“I’m not letting you deliberately hurt yourself to prove something, Pear! That’s idiotic!”

Aziraphale pouted. “But what else can I do?”

Crowley made a come here gesture, and the vines came forward, Aziraphale still in them. Crowley ran his fingers through the white blond hair. “You, my love, are supposed to be safe, and happy, and trust me. Now, no more trees?”

Aziraphale sighed. “No more trees.” Crowley released him. Aziraphale grinned, then took off at a dead run for the middle of the forest. “Sorry, had to tell a little white lie!”

“PEAR!” Crowley ran after him. Sure enough, the blond was scrambling up another, bigger tree. “GET DOWN!”

“Okay!” Aziraphale scooted onto a limb and pushed himself off.

“NO, NOT LIKE THA….” Crowley’s vines grabbed Aziraphale seconds before he hit the ground. Crowley snarled at him, and Aziraphale blushed. “I’m warning you...” Aziraphale pouted, and Crowley sighed, loosening his vines. The second he did, Aziraphale took off **again.**

Crowley was madly in love with Aziraphale, he reminded himself. He had given him Immortality because the thought of his Pear dying while he lived on forever had been too painful to bear. But now, as Aziraphale continued to defy him and climb(then jump out of and be grabbed by Crowley) tree after tree, the Guardian was seriously beginning to wonder how far Aziraphale could push him. 

“Pear, I am begging you, please stop!” Crowley whined. This was the twelfth(or was it thirteenth) tree he had grabbed Aziraphale from. “Please.”

Aziraphale frowned. “You know, if you didn’t keep grabbing me, I’d be able to test my healing. Why don’t you just let me be?”

“BECAUSE I DON’T WANT YOU DELIBERATELY HURTING YOURSELF!” Crowley’s shout made a nearby tree send forth barbed vines. Crowley grabbed them and vanished them. “Aziraphale, please, just...trust me, okay? Or...here.” Crowley snapped his fingers, and a wicked looking thorn appeared in his hands. It was easily three feet long, with a point that looked as sharp as a knife. “Hold your hand out.” Aziraphale held out his hand, and Crowley stabbed the thorn in so deep that it penetrated the other side. Aziraphale yowled in pain. Crowley yanked the thorn out. 

Aziraphale gaped at the hole in his hand, blood slowly seeping out. “Ow! That…” his eyes widened as the flesh began to knit back together. Within seconds, his hand was whole, no sign of any wound or blood. He flexed it. No pain, not even the memory of it. Aziraphale hung his head. “I was being rather foolish, wasn’t I?”

“Just a bit.” Crowley sat on the ground, and Aziraphale came over and sat next to him, idly playing with(and being petted by) his hair. “I understand you wanting to make sure what you went through was worth it, but not by putting yourself in harm’s way.”

“I am sorry.” Aziraphale laid his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “My brain does stupid things sometimes. All I could think of was ‘I need to prove this is real.’ And not...”

“Not what?” 

Aziraphale swallowed. “When I was...in the deep sleep, I had an extremely vivid nightmare.” Crowley looked confused. “A very bad dream. I dreamed that none of this happened. I never moved here, never met you, never fell in love. Instead, I was...still in that horrible hospital, trussed up in a straitjacket, and you were nothing more than an elaborate fantasy I had concocted. I kept insisting you existed, that you had made me immortal, and nothing could hurt me. Even the...telepathy, that was all part of this imaginary world and life I’d made up. Even the accident had been fake. I was just...crazy. And...I got so scared, that I was afraid to wake up, because what if the dream was right? What if I had made all this up, made you up out of whole cloth, made up this life I have now, this love I feel for you.”

Crowley moved so he was straddling the blond. He cupped his face in his hands. “You feel me, Pear? Feel my hands on your skin? I am real. I am not a figment. This, what we have, the infinite love I have for you, that is the most real thing in this world. You are not dreaming. You are here. I am here, and I love you.” He pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s. “I love you.” He repeated. Aziraphale whined in relief and kissed back. 

“I love you so much, Crowley.” Aziraphale whispered in between breaths. “Keep touching me, please.” Crowley placed his palm on Aziraphale’s shirt, his hand hot. Aziraphale sighed and lifted his arms. Crowley slid off his shirt, then scooted forward and pressed their bare chests together. Aziraphale groaned wantonly at the feel of the bark-smooth skin of his lover. Crowley wrapped his arms around him and kissed him deeply, his hands roaming up and down Aziraphale’s spine. Aziraphale let his own hands rove up and down Crowley’s back, nails digging in at intervals, and Crowley growled into his mouth and undulated against his shorts. Aziraphale’s cock sprang to attention, and the blond’s moan became louder. “Crowley...”

Crowley reached down with one hand and pulled off the loincloth he had on(the day was simply too warm for a whole tunic), rubbing his naked body against Aziraphale. “Shorts. Off.”

Aziraphale made a strangled groaning sound and yanked off his shorts. Their cocks rubbed together, creating the most wonderful friction, and Aziraphale whined out a growl and bucked upward, his mind already drunk on the pleasure Crowley was giving. “How Pear want?” 

Aziraphale blinked. “Want you inside me. I want to ride you.” Crowley nodded and moved so he was lying on his back. Aziraphale scooted forward, settling himself between the perfect thighs. He ran a hand up and down Crowley’s cock, and the guardian choked out something that sounded like ‘Zirplhe…!”

“You’re so beautiful. An exquisite creature, a demigod come to life.” Aziraphale said lovingly. He leaned over and pressed a loving kiss to the tip of Crowley’s cock. Crowley howled. Aziraphale kissed the shaft, nibbling and gently sucking, and Crowley made a strangled hissing noise. “I love you.” Aziraphale whispered before swallowing Crowley down to the hilt and sucking hard. 

Crowley screeched in pleasure, and irises bloomed from the forest floor. The Guardian grasped his love’s shoulders tightly, bucking up into his mouth as he rode the waves of pleasure. “Oh my Gaia Aziraphale that is so good you’re so good oh my Pear my love my only this is real I am real we are real I love you I love you I...” Crowley howled out as he came.

Aziraphale licked up the bits of his love’s apple-sap spend that he had missed before moving so his ass was level with Crowley’s cock. He took a breath, then slammed himself down as hard as he could. There was a brief moment of pain, but then it vanished, to be replaced by the mind-melting pleasure he always felt whenever he and Crowley made love. “Oh my god!” Aziraphale was still as a statue, his chest the only thing that was moving. “I’m such an idiot.” 

“H..huh?” Crowley wanted desperately for Aziraphale to move. “H..how?”

Aziraphale lifted himself up and slammed back down, crying out in pleasure. “I...could...test...limits..like...this” He gasped out as he moved. Crowley’s brain was quickly turning to mush, but he grabbed at a straw. 

“Test?” He yowled as Aziraphale did something with his hips and thighs that squeezed his cock and made him see stars. “Oh my fucking god...”

Aziraphale panted, his head thrown back and eyes closed as he rode Crowley as hard as he could. “Test...oh god...limits...right...see...how...oh my god...long...last...”  Crowley could only whine and dig his fingers into Aziraphale’s plump thighs, holding on for dear life as the blond went all out. 

The lovemaking lasted for hours. Aziraphale, proud of his newfound stamina, took as many opportunities as he could to drive his guardian lover mad with lust. Eventually, though, while the spirit was more than willing, the flesh was completely worn out. 

They somehow managed to stagger to the lake. Aziraphale dove in first. Crowley swam over. “No trying to drown yourself.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Just to ask...if I...will I come back?” 

Crowley pulled Aziraphale into his arms, shaking. “Not think about it.”

“Darling, it’s something I have to think about. My brother wants to kill me for my money. Making me immortal would be rather pointless if I could be killed.”

Crowley choked on tears. “Yes. It take bit longer, but yes.”

“Oh, good.” Aziraphale thought of something else. “You know, I’ve noticed that..your speech is getting much better. You haven’t spoken in Guardian for almost two weeks, did you realize that?” 

Crowley nodded. “Want to talk like Pear. Still have trouble, since Crowley not talk human speech for long long time. Part why Crowley love Pear.”

“I’m sorry?”

Crowley smiled. “Pear soft. Rose petal voice, ‘member? Soft soft. Crowley love how soft. Before people, two of them. Male and female. Male voice loud loud. Woman voice soft, but not soft like Pear. Soft like...like scared. Crowley hear shouts lots times. One time see woman run out of house.  Man follow looking mad mad, and woman get in...what called, not use horses but is for driving...”

“Car?” 

Crowley nodded. “Woman get in car, try to go, but man open door and pull her out, shouting loud loud and hit.”

“Oh my god!” 

Crowley snarled. “Crowley send thorny vines to wrap ‘round man. Woman get in car, drive ‘way. Man get loose, run back in house  with loud loud scared voice. Crowley go back to forest and...Pear?!”

Aziraphale was shaking. “S..sorry, just...old memories. I’ve never...told you about my parents, have I?” Crowley thought, then shook his head. “My father was...a preacher. Fire and brimstone, everyone that didn’t align with his idea of morality was going to Hell. He was a cruel man, always belittling my mother and calling her horrible names. But she doted on him, wouldn’t hear a word against him. She...in her way, she was just as bad, just as judgmental as he was. But where Father was blunt,  Mother was sharp. She used her tongue as a weapon, cutting you over and over until you were beat down. She and Father had some titanic rows, rows that shook the house and made me hide. See, they...Gabriel was the golden child. Strong, athletic, good looking, whereas I  was soft, horribly uncoordinated- I always got picked last for any sports at school-and, worst of all, gay.”

Crowley hugged him. “We go on shore. Can hold Pear better.” Aziraphale nodded, and they swam to shore. Crowley sat on the sand and Aziraphale embraced him. “Father of Pear talk ‘bout God?”

“Yes, like I said, he was the fire and brimstone sort.” Aziraphale took a breath. “He and my Uncle Terry were brothers, but Uncle Terry was kind, and gentle, and accepted me right away when I came out.”

Crowley looked out across the lake. “Loving...other men, it’s...allowed?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, it’s legal.”

“Oh.” Crowley’s voice was small. 

Aziraphale gently cupped his face and turned his head so he could look into the golden eyes. “What’s the matter?”

Crowley leaned into Aziraphale’s touch. “When...I was still human, there was...in the village, the smith’s apprentice. His name was Henry, and he was so handsome. He...all the girls loved him, and I...felt the same. I didn’t really understand it, but whenever I looked at him, I’d feel this...fluttering in my chest.  I’d...come to the village in disguise, just to get a glimpse of him. Foolish, right?”

“What happened?”

Crowley laughed harshly. “He was one of the ones that led the raid on my home. Dragged me out and tied me up. The look of disgust and hate in his eyes...it killed any feeling I may have had for him. He...burned me. With hot iron tongs.” Crowley stared at his arms. “You know, I forgot my parents. I forgot their names, what they looked like. I forgot that I’d ever even had parents. I forgot Bentley, my mare. I forgot my true name, forgot human speech, created my own. I forgot that I had been a healer, but I still knew how to make the potions, but it didn’t matter because I can conjure up a plant that heals all injuries. But the one thing I never can forget, no matter how hard I tried, no matter how many times I told myself it was a dream, that I wasn’t and had never been human, is that night. The smoke, the fire, and the blood.”

Aziraphale kissed the side of his head. “When I was...asleep, you went into the house. You had to, to get the records and the player.”

“I nearly didn’t. I stood in the door, and the memories just...” Crowley pressed his hands to his head, pushing down. “I nearly fainted when I crossed the...when I went inside. Good thing the...records were close. I don’t think...I’m ever going to be able to be in that house for any...long time. I’m sorry.”

Aziraphale carded his fingers through Crowley’s hair. “There’s no need to be, my love. The truth is, you are such a creature of the forest that the idea of you being bound by four walls is  reprehensible. It would be like putting you in a cage. You are a wild, beautiful creature, and you belong here.”

“And Pear? Where Pear belong?”

Aziraphale smiled. “I belong with you, my love.”

**Meanwhile, in London**

Gabriel hung up the phone, smiling. The head doctor at the private hospital had expressed great sympathy when Mr. Arch called and told him that his brother Aziraphale had ‘taken a turn for the worse’ and that he(Gabriel) felt it best for all that Aziraphale be readmitted and given the same treatment as before, and well, if there was a mistake with the dosage, that would be a tragic accident. The doctor had assured that would not happen, but Gabriel had already made plans to bribe whoever was needed to make sure it would. 

Of course, he had to get Aziraphale back here first. His brother could be stubborn, but Gabriel had an ace up his sleeve. 

He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out the gun, placing it on the table, then dialed another number. 

“It’s me. Tell your boys to meet me outside of the city in one hour. We’re going to get my brother back.” He hung up and idly spun the gun. 

“Here I come, Aziraphale. Ready or not.”


	11. Wicked Schemes, Wicked Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel's plan is underway, but Crowley and Aziraphale have one of their own.

Chapter Eleven: Wicked Schemes, Wicked Men

To an outside observer, Gabriel Arch was the epitome of the ideal man. He was tall, strong, athletic, and had charisma in spades. He always dressed in the latest and finest fashions, went to all the best parties, knew all the right people, and drove the nicest cars. His home was furnished with fine furnishings and artworks, and he contributed to several charities, even hosting a few parties at his London home.

His wife was the perfect partner. She was gracious, kind, and everyone could clearly see that she doted on her husband, and vice versa. Like Gabriel, she too dressed in the latest fashions and wore the best jewelry. If a charity needed help, Mrs. Arch was there with open pocketbook and a warm, generous smile.

But the reality was far different. Gabriel and his wife gave to charity, yes, but only for the tax break it afforded them. Their house in London was huge and empty, with only a few rooms furnished because that was all they could afford. They spent all their money(really it was Mrs/ Arch’s grandparents’ money) on frivolous things and bad investments. The bank was starting to take a very close look at their accounts and threatening to take away their things. That couldn’t happen, and as neither of them had worked an honest day in their lives(Gabriel had a cushy desk job thanks to some connections his father had, and his wife was a trust fund baby), the idea of doing any sort of manual labor was right out.

A golden opportunity seemed to present itself when Aziraphale fell heir to Terry’s estate. While Mrs. Arch didn’t share the same hatred for the soft bookseller that her husband did, she was a coldly practical woman who felt that he(Aziraphale) contributed nothing to Society at large. While she didn’t actively encourage the various ‘accidents’, she did turn a blind eye and even began planning an elaborate holiday for her and Gabriel once the money was theirs.

But Aziraphale survived everything, even managing to slip out of the private hospital Gabriel had tossed him in after his brother claimed to be able to read minds. She did notice that when she visited him in hospital, he steadfastly avoided looking at her.

Five months ago, Gabriel had announced that he had ‘business in the country’ and had driven off, returning a few days later. “I found him. He’s living in a ramshackle shed at the edge of a massive forest, would you believe it? No civilization for miles. He had the gall to refuse to come back with me! I’ll make him regret that. One way or another, we’re getting that money.”

“Of course we are, darling. I’d expect nothing less.”

Now she watched, from the rim of her magazine as Gabriel strolled into the living room, a smile on his face. “We’re gonna be rich, honey bun. I’ve got it all arranged. The hospital room for Aziraphale, a nice long holiday for us, somewhere in the Caribbean.”

“That’s nice. Suppose Aziraphale refuses to come with you again?”

Gabriel smirked and pulled a gun out of his pocket. “Well, then a tragic accident will befall him. That forest, very dangerous. Person could get lost or even killed in there. One way or another, honey bunch, I’m getting that money. I should be back in a few days.”

“Good bye.”

Gabriel went out to his car, whistling a tune. Everything was going according to plan. He drove to the outskirts of the city, pulling into the drive of a pub called The Dirty Donkey. He got out, leaned against his car, and waited.

Moments later, a beat up, mud covered Jeep pulled up next to him, and his two associates got out. The taller one took a drag of his cigarette and tossed it aside. “You got our money, wanker?”

Gabriel wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I do, but you will not get it until the job is done. That means my brother is either back in the hospital under sedation or dead. You can follow me. I don’t want either of you touching the leather in my car, I just had it cleaned.”

“Oooh, hear that, Liggy? Ponce here just had his fancy car cleaned. Ain’t he a regular fancy one. Whatever, wanker. Let’s get this show underway.”

Gabriel snorted and climbed back in his car, activating the GPS. He knew it would take almost a whole day to get to Aziraphale’s cabin, and so had made arrangements for himself to stay at a very nice hotel halfway through the trip. As for his associates, they could sleep in their Jeep for all he cared.

They drove, and drove, and drove, stopping once for lunch. When Gabriel pulled into the hotel’s driveway, the Jeep pulled up next to him. “What gives?” Hastur, the tall one with dirty blond hair asked. “Nice place.”

“I’m staying here for the night. You two can find someplace on your own.”

Hastur looked over at Ligur, his partner, then back at Gabriel. “Nah, think we’ll stay here. Looks like a cushy place. What you think, Ligur?”

“Yeah, real nice. In fact, I think we should stay in the same room as Mr. Arch, don’t you?”

Gabriel sputtered. “I...the very idea, it’s...”

Hastur smirked and pulled out a pocketknife. He dug it into his nails. “See, thing is, me and Liggy, we’ve got big mouths sometimes, and well, if we were to be left to our own devices, why, we might spill something. Wot would happen if a copper were to show up? Why, it’d be our civic duty to inform him that Mr. Gabriel Arch is plottin’ things.”

Gabriel snorted. “No one would ever believe you.”

Ligur smiled. “Oh, they don’t hafta. But there would always be that tiny nigglin’ doubt, and when yore brother shows up in the loonie bin or dead, well, people are gonna start asking questions, and me and Hastur are gonna be more than happy to spill everything we know. So, wot say we go in there, you get us all a real nice room and maybe some fancy nibbles, and we have a good rest. Sound like a plan?”

Gabriel was sure he was going to break his jaw with how hard he was clenching it. “Fine.” He growled out.

“Splendid. Liggy, let’s go live in the lap o’ luxury for a bit.” The two strolled up the drive. Snarling in anger, Gabriel followed. It probably would behoove him to make them have an ‘accident’ as well. He had more than enough bullets in the gun. But not now. Later.

The hotel staff had of course been rather shocked by Hastur and Ligur, but being consummate professionals, gave them the same treatment as their normal clientele. Gabriel had been nearly apoplectic when they kicked him out of the bed and to the couch. “I don’t want to hear any...”

Hastur rolled his eyes. “Relax, wanker. Me and Liggy ain’t gonna do anything to offend yore delicate sensibilities. That is, ‘less you want us to. We’d be down for a threesome.”

Gabriel’s disgusted face said it all, and Ligur laughed. “Guess that’s a no. Well, goodnight.” He shut the door to the bedroom in Gabriel’s face. Gabriel snarled and went over to the sofa bed.

He watched television for a bit, not really paying attention to what was going on onscreen. His mind was filled with pound notes, offshore bank accounts, and tropical sands.

He looked towards the closed door. He had paid the men in cash, making sure that there was no paper trail that could be traced back to him. More and more, he was certain that they would have to be eliminated. He didn’t want to take any chances that they would go to the authorities with what they knew. Even if no one believed them, he still didn’t want to take any chances.

The next morning, they got a late start because Hastur and Ligur insisted on going to the hotel’s restaurant for breakfast and proceeded to order the most expensive items on the menu. Gabriel had of course been ‘convinced’ to pay for it, which he did with a rictus of a smile and extremely bad grace. “Think of it as expenses.” Hastur said, smirking. “We’re worth it.”

“You fucking well better be.” Gabriel snarled under his breath. “We’ve got about a four hour drive ahead of us, and there’s nothing but a one stoplight village between here and my brother’s cabin. So if you’ve got any business needs doing, do it now.”

“Relax, boss. We’re good. Let’s go.”

The GPS took them into the village from the North side. Aziraphale’s cabin was south of the village. Gabriel decided to stop at the grocer’s, “Just to make sure Aziraphale is at home.” He ordered Hastur and Ligur to stay put before going inside.

The girl behind the counter smiled at him. “Afternoon, sir. You passing through?”

Gabriel gave her his toothiest grin. “In a way. I’m wondering if you can give me directions. See, there’s this lovely cabin I saw on a website, and it said it was outside this village.”

“Oh, that’s Mr. Fell’s cabin. He don’t like visitors. Hardly ever comes into the village, and when he does he does his business and leaves.”

Gabriel’s smile got wider. “Oh, but I was so hoping to see the cabin. And the lovely forest. Must be so peaceful.”

The girl snorted. “It’s haunted.”

“Haunted?”

“Yeah. Old village legend. See, back in the olden days, there was a bloke that lived in that cabin that was a witch. He could make plants do anything he wanted. Well, the villagers did wot they had to do. With his dying breath, the man cursed them and swore he’d be back for revenge.”

Gabriel blinked. “And what happened?”

“Well, according to all the stories, the man came back as some sorta creature. Destroyed the church and the crops, then vanished into the forest. Then a bit later, people that would go into the forest would vanish without a trace. Nobody from the village will set foot in it alone.”

Gabriel was trying not to look too excited. This was a golden opportunity, falling right in his lap. Get his brother into the forest, do what needed to be done, and then make out like he had simply...vanished. He was confident that he could hide the body well enough, and if not, well, wild animals would take care of it. “Well, I’ll...be sure to stay out of the haunted forest. Now, if you would?”

“Take the road south for about fifty miles. Should take you to the gravel path that leads up to the lake. Make sure you go right. If you go left, you’ll end up on the wrong side.”

Gabriel thanked her and exited the store. “Let’s go. One more long drive.”

Hastur put his cigarette out and climbed into the Jeep. Ligur gunned the engine and followed Gabriel out of town.

Crowley was half asleep, leaning against Aziraphale as the blond toyed with his hair. “Feels nice, Pear.”

“Your hair is one of the things I love most about you.” Aziraphale said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Crowley’s neck. “Along with your eyes, and your legs, and your smile, and your scent, and, well...everything else.”

“Crowley love...” The Guardian suddenly sat bolt upright, his face dark. “Someone coming. Pear wait here.” He shot off into his trees, heading at a dead run for Aziraphale’s cabin. Once there, he concealed himself in the closest tree and watched.

A ‘car’ came up the drive, and Crowley recognized it as belonging to ‘Gabriel,’ Snarling to himself, he watched as another strange ve-hi-cle came up the drive. Crowley didn’t recognize the humans, but one of them smelled like fire.

‘Gabriel’ got out of his car, and the other humans did the same. “Alright, you know what to do. Go in there and bring him out. Persuade him if you have to.”

The fire smelling human pulled something sharp out of his pocket. “Don’t worry. We’re both real good at persuasion.” Crowley growled in rage as they went into his Pear’s house.

‘Get out of there, that is not yours! Get out!’

The humans came out a bit later. “He ain’t there, Boss.”

‘Gabriel’s’ face was purple. “What do you mean, he’s not there?! He has to be there!”

“Yeah, well, he ain’t.”

Gabriel screamed in rage. “Listen to me. We are staying here until he gets back. Neither of you are leaving, do you understand?! I’ve come too far to let things fall apart!”

Fire Human shrugged and pulled something out of a box in his pocket. Crowley wrinkled his nose at the smoke and fire smell. “Wotever.”

Crowley snarled and raced back to the clearing. “Pear, Gabriel at house with two others! Ugly humans, one smell like fire. What Pear do?!”

Aziraphale gulped. “The one that smells like fire, does he have hair like mine?”

“Uh huh. But dirty dirty. Other has dark dark skin. Pear know?”

Aziraphale shuddered. “Hastur and Ligur, my brother’s ‘associates’. They do the dirty work that needs doing, and Gabriel maintains his golden reputation.” He stood. “They’re not going to leave until they have what they want, and that’s me.”

Crowley blocked his path. “You’re not going. I didn’t make you immortal so I could lose you right off!”

Aziraphale Smiled. “Darling, whoever said anything about losing me? I knew this would happen, and I’ve thought of a plan.” As Aziraphale talked, Crowley’s grin grew wider. His Pear was such a brilliant bastard.

Gabriel’s patience was hanging by a slim thread when Aziraphale strolled out of the forest, looking for all the world like he had gone berry picking or something. He blinked, then his jaw dropped in (feigned) surprise. “Gabriel! What a...pleasant surprise. And you brought guests.”

Aziraphale tried not to let his knees tremble too much as he looked up and into Gabriel’s eyes. He braced himself, and felt…

Silence. Aziraphale would have started sobbing in joy, but that was not part of his plan. Instead, he came forward, smiling vacantly, his hand outstretched. “Aziraphale Fell. Whom do I have the honor of meeting?”

Hastur and Ligur looked at each other. This was going to be easier than they thought. “Uh, I’m Mr. Vista, and this here’s my partner, Mr...uh...”

“Chameleo, at yore service.”

“Charmed, I’m sure. Now, Gabriel, what on earth brings you here? Oh, do forgive my manners. Would you like some tea? Biscuits? Coffee?” Aziraphale asked, still with the vacant smile.

“You know why I’m here, Aziraphale.” Gabriel said in annoyance. “I’ll be nice and give you time to pack.”

“Am I going somewhere?” Aziraphale looked confused. “Would you gentlemen care for coffee?”

Hastur snarled and pulled out his knife. Aziraphale blinked at it. “Well. There’s no need for rude gestures. If you don’t want coffee, say so like a civilized person.” He said in his haughtiest voice, the voice he had reserved for particularly difficult customers in the past. “I would suggest you leave. I cannot abide rude people.”

“Look, you stupid idiot, this is a knife!” Hastur growled out.

“Yes, I am aware. Would you like an apple? I’ve got some in my kitchen.”

“No, you dumb...look, yore coming wif us! Ligur, grab him.” Ligur smiled and started forward. Aziraphale stood where he was, still smiling.

A large vine covered in thorns suddenly dropped down, blocking Ligur’s path. “Oi! Where the hell did that come from?!”

“It don’t matter! Just push through it!” Hastur said. Ligur reached out, and the vine whipped forward.

“YEOWCH! Fucking hell, that’s like being stabbed with a hot poker!” Ligur stepped to one side, and the vine followed. “What the hell...”

Aziraphale looked up into the trees, grinning at his love. Crowley blew him a kiss, then made the vine rise up like a cobra and strike at the other humans. Gabriel jumped back. “Aziraphale, what is going on?”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

Crowley snapped his fingers and the vine disappeared. Aziraphale bit back a smile. “There’s nothing there. Now, I am a very busy man, and I do not have time to entertain visitors.”

Gabriel had reached the end of his rope. “That’s it. You know, I had planned on simply taking you back home and locking you up.”

“Declare me mentally unfit, and get my money. Yes, I know. I’m not stupid.”

“But no, you had to push and push. So you know what, I’m going with Plan B.” He pulled out his gun, pointing it at Aziraphale. “My story is that I went to visit my poor, deluded brother in his cabin, to beg him to come home where he could be safe, but sadly, he was too far gone to listen. We had a fight. Hastur, Ligur, go in the cabin and make it look like there was a struggle.” The two men started up the steps, only to be stopped by even more of the vines.

“Uh, boss...”

Gabriel snarled. “How are you doing this?! Never mind. We’ll figure something out. Anyway. My poor mad brother, he was a danger to me and to himself. Sadly, I was forced to defend myself, and in the struggle, my gun went off.”

Crowley knew the plan. He knew that Pear would come back from any injuries, even Bad Ones. But when he heard the percussion sound and saw Pear fall to the ground, he nearly gave the whole game away with his scream of anguish.

He felt the white hatred burning him, bringing forth a form he hadn’t used since The Day.

Gabriel motioned for Hastur and Ligur to pick up Aziraphale’s legs. “We’ll find a good spot to bury him.”

Crowley followed, a silent shadow, begging under his breath for Aziraphale to wake up. His Guardian form was itching to come out, his skin crawling like beetles were burrowed under it. But he wanted to lead these humans on first. He directed his trees to set the path, leading them deeper into his forest.

Aziraphale came to as he was being set down. Being shot was not a pleasant experience, and he would not recommend it. He stayed as still as he could, not wanting to give anything away until the right moment.

As soon as the first handful of dirt was thrown on him, he sat up and coughed. “Really!” He looked at the pale faces. “Is something wrong?”

“I...I shot you!” Gabriel screeched. Aziraphale looked at his shirt.

“Oh. Perhaps you missed?”

“You’ve got blood on your shirt! I shot you in the heart! What the hell is going on?!”

Aziraphale smiled. It was not a nice smile. “What’s going on, Gabriel, is like what Hamlet said. There are more things in Heaven and Earth...”

Thick, thorn covered vines surrounded them. The vines wrapped around the three humans, squeezing tightly and lifting them into the air. Aziraphale took a moment to relish in the cries of pain before standing up. “Gabriel, no doubt you went in the village, and I’m betting you heard all about the haunted forest. Well, guess what. The stories...they’re true.”

“Bullshit! You rigged this somehow. When I get loose..”

“YOU WON’T.” That was another voice, one that echoed through the forest and made the trees shiver. It was deep, and dark, and had an almost musical quality to it.

Crowley stepped into the clearing, and Aziraphale saw what he had become.


	12. Guardian of His Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel is punished, and Crowley and Aziraphale take a very important step.

Chapter Twelve: Guardian of His Forest

Aziraphale had, of course, come up with many ideas in his head for what Crowley’s Guardian Form looked like. He pictured him sometimes with large black wings and fangs, sometimes with horns like a stag, and once even imagined him as a vast, towering beast with claws and mossy fur.

The reality was far more terrible, and far more beautiful.

Crowley still...sort of looked like himself. He was man-shaped, and had the same hair and eyes. Even his height was the same. But his hair was a mass of fire snakes that twisted, hissed, and screamed, his eyes were pinpricks of flame, and every tooth in his mouth was as long and sharp as a knife blade. Venom dripped from his mouth. His hands had grown into claws, and thorns as thick as one of Aziraphale’s fingers and sharper than any knife grew from his cracked bark fingers, glinting with the same venom that was in his mouth.

He was wrapped in the same vine that held Gabriel and the others captive, and it acted as a platform for him to stand on as he….undulated...towards them. Aziraphale had never seen anything so terrible. Or so beautiful. He could almost feel the power radiating off Crowley.

Crowley came to a stop in front of the humans that were held captive by his vines. The dirty one looked like he had seen the very fires of Hell. “YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE. THIS IS MY FOREST.”

“I...I...” Hastur shut his eyes. He wasn’t seeing this. These sort of things didn’t exist. He’d open his eyes, and everything would be fine. The pansy would be dead, he and Ligur would be paid, and that would be it. He opened his eyes and screamed.

Crowley was inches from his face. He snapped forward, barely missing Hastur with his fangs. Hastur screamed in terror. Crowley darted over to Ligur and did the same thing, growling in wicked glee as the other man began blubbering. “Don’t kill us, don’t kill us!”

“WHY. YOU ARE IN MY FOREST. YOU DON’T BELONG.” Crowley placed his fingers on both their throats, pressing down. “TAKE COMFORT IN KNOWING IT WILL BE QUICK.” He turned his head at an impossible angle and smiled at Gabriel. “YOU THOUGH. YOU WILL SUFFER. I WILL MAKE MY THORNS BURROW INTO YOUR FLESH. THE AGONY WILL BE WORSE THAN YOU COULD EVER IMAGINE. YOU WILL BE BEGGING ME TO LET YOU DIE BEFORE THE END.”

Aziraphale gasped and ran forward, placing his hand on Crowley’s arm. Crowley’s skin was fire hot, and Aziraphale shouted in pain. “Crowley, no!”

Crowley didn’t even acknowledge him. He stepped back, and Aziraphale seized the opportunity and moved so he was standing in between the Guardian and the mortals. “Stop! Crowley, don’t kill them. I don’t want them dead. This wasn’t the plan. Crowley, please!”

Crowley blinked at him, his head tilted. “MOVE, HUMAN.” Aziraphale realized with a jolt that Crowley didn’t recognize him. “UNLESS YOU WANT THORNS.”

Aziraphale gulped. “Crowley, it’s me. It’s...Az...It’s Pear. You know me, my love. I know you know me. Please, Crowley...” Aziraphale shut his eyes as Crowley surged forward, snarling, his fangs bared. “I love you.” He whispered, tears in his eyes. Crowley snarled and pressed his fangs to Aziraphale’s throat.

Crowley had been fully prepared to rip out this other human’s throat. He wondered why he hadn’t tied him up. Humans were evil, wicked creatures who deserved to…

He blinked. This human...the scent of him...it was…Crowley knew that scent. Pears and roses and cotton and…

“P...PEAR?”

Aziraphale gasped. Crowley was staring at him, his fire eyes horrified. “It’s me, my love.” Aziraphale placed his hand on Crowley’s cheek, heedless of the sizzle of his skin as it burned. “I’m here. It’s your Pear. Your Aziraphale. You don’t need to kill them, my sweet. Just...make then regret.”

“REGRET I CAN DO.” Crowley stroked Pear’s soft skin. There would be time later to beg forgiveness for what he had almost done. Now though, he needed to make these humans wish they had never started down this path.

Gabriel had stopped thrashing in his bonds and now watched as Crowley came forward. “Yeah, nice makeup, you can stop the act now, Aziraphale. Where’s the remote for these fake vines, huh? This guy, you recruit him from some amateur acting hour? I gotta say, the effects aren’t the best.”

Hastur and Ligur looked at each other in disbelief. “Uh, Boss, pretty sure this is real, and all sorts of fucked up.” Gabriel snorted.

“Nonsense. This a rational world. Things like this don’t exist outside of those stupid books that Aziraphale reads.”

“Like being a telepath?” Aziraphale asked in a nonchalant tone. Gabriel tried to nod, but another vine whipped around the top of his head. “Tell me, if I couldn’t read minds, how was it I knew you were behind everything?”

Gabriel opened his mouth, Crowley snapped his fingers, and Gabriel found himself with a mouth full of very thorny roses. He screamed. Aziraphale walked over. “I heard you. When you visited me in the hospital after the accident. You thought that would be the one to do the job. Well, I started to put two and two together. How you always seemed to be ‘coincidentally’ around when my other accidents happened. How quick you were to administer aid. Didn’t want people getting suspicious. Then the way you suggested that...prison that you tossed me in. You knew how scared and vulnerable I was, and you took full advantage. You tossed me away like I was a piece of garbage, and you started scheming ways to get my rightfully inherited money out from under me. After all, what use is money when you’re locked in an asylum, sedated and drugged. Better for all that brother Gabriel be in charge.”

Gabriel said something through the thorns. Aziraphale blinked. “What?”

Crowley waved a hand and the roses vanished. Gabriel’s mouth and tongue were a mangled mess of blood. “Should have been mine.”

“The money? Why? You despised Uncle Terry. You didn’t even know he was wealthy until Shadwell produced the Will. Or is it because Mother and Father always told you that you deserved everything, and I nothing? That’s why you married Alicia, after all. A woman as rich as her, how could you resist. Must have galled you something fierce when I got my windfall. But then, well...”

Hastur spoke up. “Uh...Sir?” He addressed this to Crowley, who turned and stared unblinking at him. “Uh, we’re um...real sorry for trespassin’ in this fine forest o yores. So...if you could be a gent and let me an’ Liggy go, we promises to never come here again.”

“An’ to leave Gabriel’s kid brother alone!” Ligur added. Crowley cocked his head.

“I COULD KILL YOU. MAKE MY THORNS BURROW INTO YOU, CALL UP PLANTS THAT CAUSE AGONY BEYOND IMAGINING WITH THE MEREST BRUSH. I DO NOT TAKE LIGHTLY TO THREATS AGAINST MY FOREST OR THOSE UNDER MY PROTECTION. HOWEVER, I SHALL BE MERCIFUL, FOR THE SAKE OF HIM I LOVE. MY VINES WILL TAKE YOU BACK TO THE EDGE. LEAVE, AND NEVER RETURN.” Crowley waved his hand, and the vines holding Hastur and Ligur dragged them off. Crowley turned to Gabriel.

“YOU DESERVE DEATH FOR ALL YOU HAVE DONE. BUT MY LOVE DID NOT WANT THAT. YOU SHOULD THANK HIM, GABRIEL. IT IS ONLY THROUGH HIS MERCY AND COMPASSION THAT YOU ARE NOT DEAD RIGHT NOW. BUT I CANNOT LET ALL YOU HAVE DONE GO UNPUNISHED. SO. HERE IS MY DECREE. FROM THIS DAY FORWARD, YOU SHALL NEVER HAVE A MOMENT’S PEACE.” Crowley waved a hand, and the thorns on Gabriel’s skin pressed in, drawing blood. “THE THORNS WILL ALWAYS BE THERE, PIERCING AND PRICKING. NONE SHALL SEE THEM BUT YOU, AND THEY WILL BURROW, AND WRIGGLE, AND SCRATCH. YOU WILL LIVE FOR THE REST OF YOUR DAYS IN AGONY, NEVER ABLE TO ESCAPE. THAT IS MY JUDGMENT UPON YOU.” He waved a hand, and the thorns buried themselves into Gabriel. His scream was piercing, and Crowley smiled in wicked satisfaction.

The vines dragged him off, still screaming. Crowley turned to Aziraphale. “DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THIS! I CAN’T BEAR IT!”

Aziraphale came forward. Crowley watched, his eyes narrowed. The blond placed both hands on Crowley’s face. The Guardian snarled in fear, but Aziraphale’s initial fear had vanished like smoke. He stepped closer, and pressed his lips to Crowley’s. The Guardian froze in shock, then suddenly dropped to his knees, sobbing. Aziraphale knelt in front of him. “Darling, what is it?”

“I...I almost killed you.” Crowley’s voice no longer reverberated, but it still held that strange musical quality. “I was so deep in my Guardian Form that I didn’t recognize you. I almost ripped your throat out!” He wailed. Aziraphale reached out and gently ran a hand through the fire snakes. One hissed and was about to strike when it stopped and seemed to sniff at him. The snake wrapped itself around Aziraphale’s hand. “Least they recognize you now.”

“Yes, I see that.” More snakes were rubbing against his hand. “Why snakes, love?”

Crowley sniffled and wiped his eyes, which had gone back to their beautiful gold color. “They’re...uh, not really snakes. They’re vines. But, fire, so...look like snakes.” He shook his head, and the fire went out. “I am so sorry, Pear. Sorry you had to see me like...like that.” He hung his head.

Aziraphale gently placed his hand under Crowley’s chin and lifted his head up. “Crowley. I love you, no matter how you look.”

Crowley began sobbing in earnest and wrapped himself around Aziraphale. “I’m still...when I go Full Guardian, my human mind...my memories, they get even more suppressed. It’s why I didn’t recognize you.”

Aziraphale rubbed his back. “But you did. Something made you stop.”

Crowley pressed his nose to Aziraphale’s neck. “Smelled you. The scent of you, it’s...so wonderful. I...was able to make myself stop. But I...almost killed you. I’m a monster.”

“You’re **not.** ” Aziraphale said in a firm tone. Crowley choked on a sob. “You are a strange, beautiful, powerful, kind, fearsome, and wonderful being. You are the one I love.”

“Would...if I was human, would you still love me? If we had met...if somehow, you lived in my time, or I lived in yours, would we still come together? Would you still hold me close at night, make love to me, be mine?” 

Aziraphale cupped his face. “In this time, in your times, in all time. I never really believed in True Love, you know. Oh, I read about it, and would sometimes wonder if I would ever find mine, but in my heart, I never  **truly** believed that I would meet somebody and think, ‘Yes, he’s the one.’ But then you came into my life, and you turned it upside down and inside out. You introduced me to magic, to wonders I’ve never known outside of books. I thought you were beautiful from the second I laid eyes on you all those months ago, and I started to fall in love when you kissed me that first time. We are ineffable, Crowley.”

Crowley was crying from happiness. “I watched you move in, and was prepared to hate and fear you. But then you sensed me, and I got curious. And you...you were so kind, and soft, and strong, and beautiful.” He took a breath. “Tell me you love me.”

Aziraphale’s eyes went soft with love. “I love you, Cr...” Crowley placed a hand on his mouth.

“No. U..use my human name. Please.”

Aziraphale’s eyes lit in recognition, and he nodded. Crowley removed his hand. “I love you.  **Anthony.** ”

Crowley burst into sobs and kissed Aziraphale. “Say it again, please.”

“Anthony. My love, my only. My Anthony. I love you with every beat of my heart, every breath of my lungs, every pulse of my blood. You are my anchor, my North Star, and my constant. I will love you for eternity, and for all time after. You are my world.”

“I love you, Aziraphale. I love you like the moon loves the tides, like a rose loves her thorns. You are my life, my world, and I thank every deity there is that you came to live here. You light my soul.” 

They kissed for several moments, then Crowley spoke. “Do you...remember, when I teased about you being King of the Forest?” Aziraphale nodded. “I’m not teasing now. Be my King. I...can make the forest obey you as well. You won’t be able to control it like me, but it will listen if...if you ask.”

“I have one condition, love. You **must** put aside your hatred of the villagers. I’m not asking you to reveal yourself. But let your hatred go. The ones that killed your mortal body are long dead themselves.”

Crowley sighed deeply, then nodded. “So be it. I will never forgive their ancestors for what they did, though.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

Crowley smiled lopsidedly before standing and pulling Aziraphale with him. “Now, will you be mine?”

“I always was, my darling. But yes, I will marry you.”

Crowley whooped in joy and snapped his fingers. The most beautiful flower crown Aziraphale had ever seen appeared in his hands. The flowers were of all sorts and colors, and seemed to be glowing. Crowley came forward and reverently placed it on Aziraphale’s head. “HEAR ME. I, CROWLEY, GUARDIAN AND PROTECTOR, TAKE THIS MAN FOR MY KING AND HUSBAND. YOU WILL OBEY HIM AS YOU DO ME, AND OFFER PROTECTION. THAT IS MY DECREE. NO PLANT SHALL HARM, NO TREE SHALL HURT. AZIRAPHALE, NEWLY IMMORTAL, AND NOW MY KING.”

Every branch rustled, and Crowley smiled. “Will you take me for your Guardian and Protector, and for your husband?”

“Yes. With all my heart, yes.” 

Crowley pulled him into a kiss that made roses grow from the ground and wrap around them both. 

**London**

“Gabriel, stop!” Alicia watched with horrified eyes as her husband dug into his arm once again. “There’s nothing there!” 

“You have to see them. The thorns. They’re right here, Alicia! Look!” He held out his bloodied arm. The thorns were everywhere, burrowing into him! Why didn’t Alicia see them?! “Look, you stupid bitch!”

Alicia looked at Gabriel’s arm and saw nothing but blood and flesh. 


	13. Peace and Prosperity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale discuss their future, and Aziraphale reminisces.

Chapter Thirteen: Peace and Prosperity

Crowley abruptly woke up. Something was wrong. When he had gone to sleep, Pear had been in his arms, his beautiful soft body pressed up against Crowley’s and his pear and cotton scent filling Crowley’s mind and helping him drift off. He sniffed the air, whimpering when he couldn’t get a fresh scent. His Pear wasn’t here.

Crowley went to the mouth of the cave, hoping to see Pear sitting on the big rock that they used. But the clearing was empty and still. Feeling very worried now, Crowley climbed up into his trees and set off towards the house. Maybe Pear needed something from there.

When he arrived, he nearly fell out of the tree he was in in shock. Pear was walking out of the house, a big box in his hand. He went over to his ‘car’.(hardly ever used except for the very infrequent trips into town for certain items) and put the box in. Then he went back in the house and came out with another box.

“What are you doing?” Crowley asked as he slid out of the tree. Pear didn’t look at him. “Pear?”

“I’ve got my books, now I just need to pack the record player, some kitchen items. Oh, what else?”

“Pear?” Crowley stepped closer. “Where going?” No response, not so much as a glance in his direction. Crowley, feeling his spine crawl, reached out to grab Pear’s shoulder.

His hand went through him. Crowley nearly fell over. “Pear!”

Aziraphale turned around, confused. “Hello? Anyone there?”

“Yes! Me! It’s me, Crowley!” Crowley said, grinning. Pear had sensed him! “Pear?”

Aziraphale shook himself. “Must be imagining things. Oh well, time to return to London. You were right, this vacation did me a world of good.” He said, turning towards the house. Crowley snarled in rage at the man who walked out. But the rage quickly turned to confusion.

“Told you you needed a rest, little bro.” Gabriel said, smiling. “You’ve been working your fingers to the bone.”

“No! Pear, he’s lying! He wants to kill you! I punished him for it! Pear, please!” Crowley shouted.

“Gabriel, do you hear something?”

“Probably just the wind. You all packed?”

Crowley bounded up a tree and raced after Pear’s ‘car’. “PEAR! DON’T LEAVE ME! COME BACK, COME BACK, COME BACK DON’T LEAVE ME PEAR DON’T LEAVE ME DON’T LEAVE….”

“CROWLEY! WAKE UP!”

Crowley shot bolt upright, a dying scream on his lips. His body was shaking and heaving, and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t catch his breath, and...and…

The scent of pears and cotton filled him, and he became aware of a soft, warm body pressed against his own. He turned his head. “P...Pear?”

Aziraphale breathed out in relief. “Oh, thank goodness.”

Crowley threw himself into Pear’s arms, shaking and sobbing. “Don’t leave me don’t leave me...”

“Never, my dearest darling, never.” Crowley sniffled and pressed tighter, inhaling his husband’s scent.

“Had….very bad nightmare. Woke up, Pear gone. Went to house, an’...you were leaving. You...I couldn’t touch you, and Gabriel was...said it was just a va-ca-tion and you were going back to before place.”

“Oh, my love.”

“Climbed and climbed and yelled, but you...left me. Don’t leave me.”

“I swear I won’t, my sweet husband. But may I ask that you do something about these carnations? They’re rather everywhere.” Crowley chuckled through his tears and snapped his fingers. “Thank you, darling.”

Crowley was still on an emotional high from his nightmare. “Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale kissed his neck. “Yes, my love?”

“Make love to me.” Crowley pulled back so he could look into the sky eyes he loved so much. “I need...I need to feel you.”

Aziraphale stroked his jaw before leaning in and kissing him, a sweet, soft kiss that deepened into something more. Crowley kissed back, sighing as he always did at the feel of his love’s soft lips on his. “I love you, Crowley.” Aziraphale whispered between breaths. He grasped Crowley’s shoulders, then slid his hands down, pushing Crowley’s tunic down his arms. “Lie back for me, my love.” Crowley laid back, and Aziraphale moved so he was hovering over him, propped up on his hands. He kissed Crowley again. “I’m real, my love. I’m here, and I’m never leaving. I promise.”

Aziraphale sucked a bruise into Crowley’s neck, nipping at his bark-smooth skin. “I love you. More than words could ever say. If all the books in all the world were rewritten to show my love, they would only be a fraction of a fraction of the depths of it.” He moved down, pressing his lips to Crowley’s chest. “You are my orbit, my planet, my universe. I am yours now, forever, and always.” He flicked his tongue across Crowley’s nipple, and Crowley whined in pleasure. “I love thee to the depth and breadth of height.” He sucked a kiss into Crowley’s sternum. “My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight.”

Another kiss, this time just below his ribs. “For the ends of being and ideal grace.”

Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s thigh. “I love thee to the level of every day’s most quiet need...” He left a trail of kisses across Crowley’s stomach. “By sun and candle light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right.”

Crowley was shaking in need. Pear’s soft voice against his skin, combined with the kisses, was driving him mad with desire. “Pear, please...”

Aziraphale was shaking himself. His cock was hard as iron. He needed to be inside his love. He fumbled around, and his hands closed on the Berry. It still had a few pearls left, and Aziraphale quickly coated himself in the juice before slipping two fingers inside Crowley. The Guardian howled. Aziraphale scissored his fingers, then surged up. “I love thee...purely...as they turn from praise...”

“Pear, please...” Crowley was shaking and sobbing. “Please...”

Aziraphale lined himself up and slid inside. Crowley cried out in ecstasy. “I love thee with the passion put to use...” Aziraphale whispered in his ear as he moved deliciously inside him. Crowley cried out and wrapped his legs around Aziraphale’s waist.

“In...oh, Crowley...in my old griefs, and with my...oh, my darling, you feel so wonderful...with my childhood’s faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose...ohhh, my darling, you’re so tight, so wonderfully hot and tight, you feel so magical, you are magic...with...with my lost saints. I love thee with the breath...” Aziraphale could feel himself getting close, and by the sounds Crowley was making, he knew his love was teetering on the precipice. “Smiles, tears of all my life...” Aziraphale was panting the words into Crowley’s ear. He was so close. “And….” He couldn’t hold back any longer.

Crowley screeched in pleasure and came. The cave erupted in marigolds, carnations, and roses. Aziraphale clung to him, his own cry echoing as he came hard and deep inside his husband. “And...if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death. Not that...I have to worry about that bit.” He added with a cheeky grin. Crowley giggled. Aziraphale laughed and kissed him. “Do you believe me now, my love?”

“Yes.” Crowley whispered, running a finger down Aziraphale’s cheek, then to his shoulder. “What was...that?”

“You mean what I was saying?” Crowley nodded. “A love poem. Did you like it?”

“Yeah. Pear know other love poems?”

Aziraphale smiled. “I know quite a lot, my love. Why?”

“Could...maybe say them to Crowley? Not only when making love, but...other times?”

“Oh, my love. Of course.” Aziraphale kissed him. “Now, shall we go to the lake and get cleaned up?”

Crowley nodded, and they went to the lake, diving in. Aziraphale swam around. “Crowley, is it just me, or is the lake not as cold as usual?”

Crowley dove under and came back up, throwing his hair over his shoulder. “Both. You being my king means that you don’t feel heat and cold like you did when you were full human.”

“Full human?” Aziraphale swam over. Crowley looked down at his reflection.

“When I made the Decree that you were my king, and for my forest to obey you...there was magic behind it. Some of my...power transferred into you.”

“But I didn’t...” Aziraphale paused. He remembered now that frisson that had gone up his spine. He had assumed it was simply a reaction from realizing just how powerful Crowley really was. “Oh.”

“Yes.”

“So, what can I do? I know you said I couldn’t control the plants, not to your degree.”

Crowley laid back, floating. “You can make any seed grow that you plant, and they will live much longer. Any fruit trees will bear fruit for longer, and the fruit will taste better. You won’t feel the heat and cold like a normal human, and as I Decreed, no plant will be able to harm you. In our forest, you are protected from everything.”

“All that and immortality, too.” Aziraphale quipped. Crowley chuckled. “I would love to have a proper garden. One that I could harvest vegetables and fruit from, maybe have some herbs for my tea. Uncle Terry had a garden, and I used to help him pull weeds. He paid me one pound for every weed.”

“No weeds. Just plants.”

Aziraphale laughed. “That’s what he used to say. He’d have me pull them, then he’d take them to an empty patch of his garden and replant them. ‘Aziraphale’, he’d say, ‘There’s no such thing as a weed. It’s a plant that needs loving.’ He used to make dandelion wine, and it was a special treat for me.”

“Crowley not have Uncle. Parents...lone kids.”

“Only children?” Crowley nodded.

“What was he like?”

“My Uncle Terry?” A nod. “He was...wonderful. He was a writer, and he wrote the most wonderful and funny books. He always wore a hat, no matter the weather, and always carried an umbrella. He always had a smile for everyone, and he listened. That was the thing I loved most about him. See, my parents, well, I’ve told you what they were like. So naturally, this meant that they didn’t really listen. At least not to me. Gabriel on the other hand...” Aziraphale shook himself. “Uncle Terry lived out in the country, and I’d go visit him during the summer holidays so Mother, Father, and Gabriel could go to their fancy resorts without….worrying that I was going to embarrass them.”

“How Pear do that?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale was silent for several long minutes. “Pear?”

“It was...well, I mean, why would they want to be seen with me? As Father once explained, I was a...I believe the term he used was ‘a disgrace to the Arch-Fell name.’ Gabriel was the perfect, golden child that could do no wrong. Whereas I was the mistake.”

“Pear not mistake.” Crowley said in a firm tone, wrapping himself around the blond.

“I know that now, but it took years before I had enough self confidence to realize it. Uncle Terry was the only one who appreciated me for who I was, and it hurt that I was only able to see him a few weeks out of every year.”

“He not come see Pear?”

Aziraphale laughed harshly. “No. When I was still at home, it was because years ago he and Dad had a row over some property of their father’s. It became ugly, and Dad vowed to never talk to Uncle Terry ever again. Later, when I was on my own, it was because he didn’t drive and hated the city. Always said it moved too fast. But on the upside, being independent meant I could visit him more often. I’d go down on weekends, and we’d go out on the town.” Aziraphale paused. “When I...when my parents threw me out, I called Uncle Terry. I was in tears, and it was nearly midnight. I had no money, nothing but the clothes on my back, and it was cold and raining. I could barely speak. Uncle Terry told me not to worry, then he hung up. I was furious, and upset, thinking he had just...spouted a platitude. Then my mobile rings again. It was Uncle Terry. He had gone online and found a shelter for homeless Queer Youth that was nearby and had a bed. He had called to tell me he was going to text the directions. I found the shelter with no problems.”

“What happen?”

Aziraphale motioned towards the shore. They sloshed to dry land, and Aziraphale sat. Crowley sat behind him, letting his hair rub them both dry. “I stayed at the shelter until I got out of school. Part of the..deal for living there was that we complete our schooling and also find a job. There was this old used bookstore nearby. I got a job stocking the shelves and working the till. I’d always loved books-yet another reason why Father hated me.” Crowley made a ‘huh’ sound. “Books are instruments of sin! The only book you need is the Bible! All others will lead to Hell!” Aziraphale said in a harsh voice. “It was a lecture I received so often I memorized it. That along with the one about making Gabriel look bad because...I don’t know, my hair wasn’t perfect. The reasons varied. Anyway. I loved the job, and made a vow that one day I’d have a shop of my own. I double majored in Business and Literature when I went to Uni.”

“What happen to Uncle Terry?”

Aziraphale took a breath. Even now, all these years later, the memories still stung. “When I was just finishing my first term at Uni, he began to get...absent minded. He’d forget my name, think that I was his friend Neil, or he wouldn’t recognize me at all and think I was a fan. Then there would be days where he knew me, but thought it was the 1940s and we were spies for the British. I had to take him out of an abandoned church one day. He had gone in holding a bunch of tatty books and was insisting that he had to meet someone to exchange valuable books of prophecy. I told him I was there to rescue him, and that we had to hurry because a bomb was going to drop.”

Aziraphale blinked back tears. “It finally got to the point where Uncle Terry was becoming a danger to himself. I had some money, thanks to my job at the book exchange, but it wasn’t enough to pay for a decent...nursing facility, and I knew there was no way Father would give him a bent shilling. So I quit my job and moved in with him. In..in the end, he was bedridden, wearing a diaper, and drooling. I was the only one there when he died, and the only one in the family to attend the funeral.” Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, grinning. “After the funeral, the shit hit the fan. I got a phone call from a man who introduced himself as Sergeant Shadwell. He told me he was Uncle Terry’s solicitor, and would I please come to his office at my earliest convenience. So I go, thinking maybe Uncle Terry had some debts that needed paying. I get there, and Gabriel’s there, along with my parents and Neil, whom I’d met once and got on wonderfully with. Shadwell’s got this folder on his desk, and motions for me to sit before opening it. Turns out Uncle Terry had a Will.”

“What that?”

“Oh, um...a way for a person to make sure their money and other things are taken care of. So Shadwell informs everyone of this, and also drops the bomb that Uncle Terry was extremely well off. So. Neil got Terry’s book collection, plus some artwork, then some of Uncle Terry’s favorite charities got a thousand pounds each. Then Shadwell informs me that “To my nephew Aziraphale, who always had a smile for me, no matter how bad the day, and who is the purest, kindest soul, I leave the rest of my estate, amounting to a total of fifteen million pounds, and also including my house in the South Downs, should he wish to make use of it.”

Crowley grinned. “What parents and Gabriel get?”

“Nothing. They were furious. Tried suing me, but the case was thrown out. Mother and Father went to their graves cursing my name.”

“Parents dead?”

Aziraphale hmmed. “Yep. Heart attacks within two months of each other. Father passed first, and Mother died right before I graduated. I cried more when I failed my Maths exam than I did when they died.”

“Pear go to Down South house?”

Aziraphale giggled. “South Downs, love. And yes, I’ve been. It’s nice, but there’s far too many memories for it to ever be a home for me. Which...makes me think of something. My house, the memories it holds for you...what if there was a way to get rid of them?”

“How?”

Aziraphale turned so he was facing Crowley. “Tear it down. Build a new one. Make our own memories. I could have my garden, and we could make the plants grow. We could have roses in the morning, and I could read to you by firelight. We could have something that was truly ours. It would take a while, but I think it would be worth it. What do you say?”

“Yes.”


	14. Forever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley face a beautiful life together.

Chapter Fourteen: Forever After

Aziraphale had little cause to go to London, these days. Everything he needed was at his and Crowley’s home at the edge of their forest. The old house, the one that held so many painful memories for the Guardian, was now nothing but a memory itself.

Their new house was a blend of them both. Outside, creeping, flowering vines covered the brick walls, which were always shiny and glistening. The porch was made from the finest trees in Crowley’s forest, all of whom were more than happy to contribute a limb for their Masters. It wrapped around the entire house, and the rails were covered in rambling roses. The swing from the old house still remained, and there had been many nights spent on it, snuggling and watching the sun set over the lake.

Inside, the floors were wooden and always cool under the foot. There was a large living room, with soft furnishings, the best of which was a sofa that took up half the room and faced an enormous fireplace. On cold, wet nights, they curled up together on that sofa and let the fire warm them. At first, the fire had triggered Crowley’s memories of that night, and Aziraphale spent hours comforting the petrified deity. But gradually Crowley’s fear became manageable. While he would never get too close to the hearth, he would light it if asked, and would admit he liked the warmth.

Aziraphale’s kitchen was sleek and modern, with beautiful cherry wood cabinets and a large kitchen island. He was becoming an excellent cook, often using the fruits and vegetables from their massive garden in his recipes. Crowley rarely ate, but he praised everything Aziraphale made to high heaven.

The bedroom, though, was where they had gone all out. The bed was enormous, with oak bedposts and sat in the middle of the room, covered in silk sheets, satin pillows, and the finest comforters and blankets Aziraphale could find. The headboard was wrought iron, and had vines dangling from it. Crowley had discovered, much to their mutual delight, that he loved Aziraphale tying him to the bed with his vines and then doing unspeakably lovely and wicked things to him.

The bathroom consisted of a shower large enough for six people, a walk down tub, and a large sink. Crowley still preferred cleaning up in the lake, that was until Aziraphale slid to his knees one night in the shower and took him in his mouth. Now Crowley was a big shower fan.

Even Aziraphale’s reputation in the village was much better, these days. When he had first gone after everything had happened, he had been terrified that maybe, somehow, he’d had a telepathic relapse. But as with Gabriel, silence had greeted him. He had been ecstatic, explaining to the girl at the grocer’s(Jenna, what a lovely name) that he was recovering from a long illness.

Crowley, of course, still refused to go into the village, but he did subtly make it easier for the villagers to go into his forest, if they wanted to.

That had been nearly eight months ago. Now, Aziraphale had come to London to do two things. The first was something he knew was necessary, but still hurt. He was selling his shop. Aziraphale had, at first, considered keeping it and communing from their house to London. But after a week of coming home so exhausted he could do nothing but collapse, he and Crowley had sat down and discussed the matter. In the end, Aziraphale reluctantly agreed that the stress was too much. He had a found a buyer easily enough-his building was in a prime locale- and had agreed that the building would be sold and Aziraphale would get the books. Their house had an enormous library with wooden shelves waiting to be filled.

The transaction went very well, and Aziraphale made all the arrangements needed to have his books shipped. After that, he went to one of his favorite cafes, a place that served excellent coffee and pastries. The girl behind the counter smiled at him. “Mr. Fell! Where’ve you been?”

Aziraphale smiled at her. “In the country, for my health.”

“Best place to be. We gonna see you again?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m just here to take care of things.”

“You got someone waitin’ for ya. I know that dreamy look.”

Aziraphale smiled into his coffee. “I do indeed.”

The second stop was one that filled Aziraphale with wicked, vindictive glee. The building itself looked like any of the others on the street. A bronze plaque out front told people it was Harvest Rest Home. Aziraphale walked up the steps and paused, the memories overwhelming him for a moment. He took a deep, deep breath and walked inside.

The interior was sleek and modern, with tiled floors and walls. A large reception desk took up most of the room, and a young lady sat at a computer, diligently tapping keys. Aziraphale went over and pressed the buzzer for service. “Good afternoon, Sir. How may I help you?”

“I’m here to visit Gabriel Arch. I’m his brother.” Aziraphale said in a rather convincing contrite voice. The receptionist pulled something up on her computer.

“We have you down, Mr. Fell. I’ll get Dr. Robertson for you, if you will wait one moment.” Aziraphale nodded. The woman stood and went through a door behind the counter.

A tall man with graying hair came out to the waiting area, and Aziraphale had to exert all his willpower to not run, firmly reminding himself that he was not the patient, not anymore. “Mr. Fell.” Aziraphale shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you looking so well.”

“Thank you. I don’t have much time, Dr, so if we could.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” The doctor led Aziraphale through a door and down a long corridor lined with other doors. “You know, your brother’s case is unique. He insists that there’s thorns inside him. We have to keep him restrained at all times, otherwise he does serious injury to himself. But he also talks constantly about a demon that he says is named Crawley.

“Crowley.” Aziraphale mumbled under his breath. The doctor looked at him. “Nothing. Go on.”

“According to him, this demon has red snakes for hair, yellow eyes, and is covered in vines with thorns, the same thorns that are inside him. He says he was cursed.” Dr. Robertson stopped in front of a door. “This is his room. Now, I want you to brace yourself. The sight may not be a pretty one.” He unlocked the door, and Aziraphale stepped in.

Gabriel was tied down to the bed. His fingers were opening and closing, and he writhed in his bonds. “Get them out get them out...”

Aziraphale stepped forward and smiled down at his brother. “Hello, Gabriel.”

“Aziraphale! Get these thorns out! Tell the demon to lift his curse!”

Aziraphale would have felt sorry for him, would it not for the knowledge that Gabriel had tried, numerous times, to have him killed. He pulled up a chair and placed his hand on Gabriel’s. To the doctor, it looked like a gesture of affection. Aziraphale smiled into the violet eyes he hated. “You remember Father’s sermons on reaping what you sow? Well, welcome to the reaping, **dear** brother. Any pity I may have had for you vanished long ago. I suffered here, did you know that? The doctors sedated me, made me into a living zombie. But I’ve asked that you not be medicated. You know why?” Aziraphale leaned in. “Because I want you to feel it. Every. Single. Bit. Of pain. The pain you caused me, the pain you caused everyone. I want my love’s thorns to burn, and sting, and scratch, and drive you mad with torment. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure that you’re taken care of. This is the best private hospital there is, of course, and I have more than enough money to keep you here for a long, long time.” Aziraphale smiled, and Gabriel gulped. “Goodbye, dear brother.”

Gabriel’s screams followed him down the corridor. 

Aziraphale made one last stop. There was a large garden center that he had often passed by while living here, but had never had any reason for going in. Now though, he had very good reasons. The interior was cool, and Aziraphale could smell the plants and flowers. He went over to the equipment. He needed a new rake, new trowels, and a wheelbarrow. 

‘Belong to Master smell like Master...’ Aziraphale stopped, his head tilted much like Crowley’s. That voice...he blinked. He could almost swear it was coming from…

‘Is like Master...’ 

Aziraphale glanced quickly around to make sure no one was looking before idly sidling up to a potted plant. “Er...did you...speak to me?” The plant opened and closed its leaves. 

‘Smell like Master.’ 

Aziraphale gawped. “You mean Crowley? B..but he’s a Forest Guardian.”

The plant rustled, and Aziraphale realized it was laughing(or whatever the plant equivalent was). ‘Master Guard Forest, but hold Dominion over all plants. Even plants not in his Forest. Why smell like?’ 

“Errm...well...that’s really not your business. Cheeky fern.” Aziraphale huffed and walked off, the plants rustling laughter following him.

He purchased what he needed, along with several packets of seeds and gave the fern’s leaves a gentle tug as he left. 

Crowley was  coaxing their apple tree to blossom when he heard the distinct sound of Aziraphale’s car. He leaped to his feet and ran to meet his husband. “Pear!” Aziraphale laughed and held out his arms. Crowley jumped into them, giving him a kiss. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too, love. How goes the garden?”

“Apple almost blooming. Crowley asking very nicely. Gardenias bloomed, and the carrots have taken root. Pear buy more seeds?”

“I did indeed. But we’ll worry about them later. Right now I want to go inside and rest.”

“’Kay.” Crowley made no move to get down. Aziraphale laughed and carried him inside the house, where they sank into the soft cushions of the sofa. “What Pear do?”

“Well, I signed the paperwork transferring ownership of the shop. I have to say, it was less...painful than I thought. Oh, it still hurt, but at least I still have my books, and now I won’t have to worry about pesky customers. Then I went to see Gabriel. You’ll be happy to know he’s in misery. Then I went to a garden shop, where I had an interesting conversation with a fern. One, why didn’t you tell me that I can now apparently talk to plants, and they to me, and two, why didn’t you tell me that your power over them doesn’t end at our Forest?”

Crowley looked up at him. “Thought Pear would figure out by ‘self.” Aziraphale glared at him. “Fine. Sorry for not tell. And ‘course Crowley’s power go past Forest. Have Dominion over plants. If She had meant just plants in Forest, would have said.”

“Do you think...I’ll ever see Her?”

Crowley shook. “Pray you don’t. She’s wonderful, and terrible. You think I’m powerful, but I’m nothing compared to Her. She can make whole forests vanish with a wave of her hands, and the ground trembles when she walks. Her voice is the thunder, Her hair is oceans, and Her teeth are boulders. When She Changed me, made me the Guardian, it was the worst agony I’d ever felt. Remember the pain you went through when you became immortal?” Aziraphale shuddered.

“Don’t think I’ll ever forget.”

“Imagine that pain, only a thousand, a million times worse, and there’s no soothing it, no stopping it. I felt my very bones crack, and my blood boiled and became sap. I screamed until I had no voice left, and when it was done, I was nearly insane from the pain of it and from my hatred of the ones that had killed me.”

Aziraphale hugged him. “Was it worth it? Becoming the Guardian?”

“More than, because it meant that I was able to live long enough for you to come into my life and heart.” Crowley turned so he was facing his husband. “There were years, dark, terrible years where I hated the humans with passion, where I did all I could to hurt and kill those who came into the forest, even driving a few mad. I chased everyone off. But then you come, and...you say I have magic, and it’s true. But my love, the magic you have, it shines so brilliantly. Your love, your kindness...it’s a magic I thought long gone. I will be forever grateful for you bringing it back.” 

Aziraphale blinked back happy tears. “Cro...” Crowley shook his head. “Anthony. My dearest...” Crowley pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s, and they quickly became lost in each other. 

After a not so brief trip to the bedroom, they showered(which led to another round, which led to more showers, this time separately) Aziraphale went into the kitchen to prepare dinner. Crowley went out into the garden. 

The apple trees were blossoming, and Crowley patted the trunk of one of them. “Good girl.” The leaves rustled in happiness, and one branch came down to gently rest on Crowley’s head. He petted it. “Make the best apples you can, my girl.” More rustling. “That goes for all of you.”

“Yes, and then Crowley can gather them in a basket and leave them at my doorstep.” Aziraphale had come out, and he walked over to Crowley, gathering him in his arms. “After all, that how he first tempted me. With an apple from his garden.”

Crowley smiled into the cerulean eyes. “And did it work?”

Aziraphale laughed in delight and kissed him. “Temptation...accomplished.”

Crowley laughed, and together they left the garden. 


End file.
